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“Jihyun,” Jimin narrows his eyes towards his brother, “Eat your food.”

The dinner table is quiet, which is rather generic for the Park family. Usually it is found to be either filled with either heated discussions between their mother and father or Jihyun pulling one of his moods to upset their father on purpose.

Jihyun liked to pull the strings, enjoyed to test their father. He liked marking his own limits—despite being the youngest.

Jimin, on the other hand, attempted to be peaceful as much as he possibly could. It was a given that it certainly wasn’t often.

Jihyun rolls his eyes at his brother, but decides to keep quiet and eat the food that their maid had spent the day cooking.

“It had to be someone you know,” Jimin’s mother kept on pressing with his father, “Or someone who had been watching. It’s no coincidence they knew the work hours. This was planned.”

“All burglaries are planned, Mother.”

“Quiet, Jihyun.”

Their father grunts along with a heavy sigh. Jimin keeps his gaze low, mostly stuck on his own plate. The tension had been on the entire family’s shoulders ever since they left the police station. Not that it ever left, it was simply—heavier.

“They were young, foolish, for sure,” The old man grunts, “Probably a troubling kid from the neighborhood.”

“Why would you think that?” Their mother asks, drinking up the wine left inside of the cup faster than Jimin wishes she did.

Jimin’s father snorts, “They only stole money and watches. If they were at least a little smart they would see the possibilities of easy money that could come from the other things that were in there. Unexperienced.”

“Shouldn’t you be glad that they didn’t steal anything else instead of mocking it?” Jimin finds himself speaking up at his father for the first time that evening. Eyes barely leaving his plate as he played with his food, bored.

“Jimin.” His mother grunts.

“It’s small money, son.” His father grows serious, “I’m just trying to make the situation a little lighter.”

Jimin keeps quiet.

“Besides,” His father continues, “It was probably one of those imbeciles that go to your school.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow at that, his gaze now lifted towards his father.

“Yes, one of my clients warned me about some of the morons that frequent your school. He told me how he’s seen them around,” He pauses to drink a portion of his wine, “Even gave me some names to look into if I was interested in pursuing an investigation.”

“You said you weren’t.” His mother questions.

“And I’m not,” His father dismisses her, “I do, however, want to ask a favor of you, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek, pushes his silverware together on his plate as he forces eye contact with his father. Still processing the information that was just thrown at him.

“One of the names was Jeon Jungkook, supposedly he’s in your grade. Is that right?”

Jimin gulps.

Jeon Jungkook.

The quiet boy, usually skips a lot of school and always hangs around Hirai Momo. He’s seen him hangout with Taehyung and Hoseok before as well, though it was rare that he ever even came close to the boy.

The only time they had ever spoken was when Jimin had asked to borrow one of his color pencils in grade 2, since he had forgotten his own at home. And he surely, didn’t want to miss his favorite class—Arts.

He came close to a second time, when he caught him fighting his ex-boyfriend, Jihoon, in the lockers room. Jihoon never told him the reason for the fight.

Maybe he really was a troubled kid.

His impression of the boy is cold, blurry. Not that anyone else seems to be close with him other than Momo herself. Which now that he thinks of it, is a little bit odd considering that Jungkook had been going to the same school as him since primary.

“Yeah.”

“Great,” His father cleans his mouth with the clothed napkin, “I want you to keep an eye on him. Find out it was most likely him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t even know him, Dad—”

“Good, at least I’m reassured you don’t hang around imbeciles like him.” His father mocks as he gets up from the table, picking up his ringing phone most likely calling for a business meeting.

“That’s not what I meant.” Jimin says.

“Jimin,” His mother rests her hand on his wrist, grabbing his attention, “Just do as your father asks. Please?”

Jimin hesitates, though when his gaze meets his mother’s his heart aches. All of her harvested pain hidden behind her glassy eyes. She wasn’t okay, hasn’t been for long. So he finds himself simply sighing and nodding.

 


 

 

“Yo,” Seokjin bumps his elbow against Taehyung, “Where did Jungkook and Hoseok go?”

Taehyung shrugs, eyes almost closing, “They went to take a piss, somewhere.”

4:56AM. The group found themselves at a small secluded beach, a couple of streets down the bars that they had spent their money on drinks. Their time mostly relying on Seokjin’s jokes and Hoseok’s drunk dancing. At one point Yoongi attempting to balance his beer bottle on his nose and miserably failing.

“We should probably start heading back. It’s late.” Namjoon mutters, the responsible dominant trait popping out, as usual. Though his words slurred out due to the alcohol that swam through his blood as of the moment.

“No.” Jimin grunts, stubborn as he lays in the cold sand, “I wanna dance. Let’s just—let’s just dance for a bit, before we leave. Please.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes as he gets the smaller boy back on his feet, doesn’t bother questioning the way Taehyung and Yoongi have started to make out by his side.

“Jimin—”

“Please! I wanna—just, dance!” Jimin’s eyes tear and Namjoon finds it rather tough to keep the cooing laughter in, “Please, hyung—”

“Alright,” Namjoon agrees, hoping Jimin would allow himself to get a grip, “We’ll check if there’s any club nearby. But if there isn’t, we go home. Deal?”

Jimin pouts and hesitates, “Deal.”

“Good.”

By the time they do end up finding a club that was able to fit Jimin’s expectations, he finds himself already sobering up. For some odd reason, his eyes search for the dark haired boy with the reserved gaze.

He had kept a soft eye on Jungkook all night, not adapted to having the younger around. He was quiet, as expected. Even after drinking, Jungkook kept quiet and collected, staying mostly around Hoseok the entirety of the night given that Taehyung got on his alcohol a little bit too early and only had heart eyes for his own boyfriend.

He still hadn’t spoken a word to him, only a short glance exchange when he was drinking his first beer. It was clear that the younger was one to keep his distance.

His father’s words echo in the back of his tipsy mind. He wonders if Jungkook did it, wonders if he’s at fault. He also wonders what kind of guy he is for judging someone he doesn’t know at all. Though his family raised him to be this way, skeptical, judgmental. Keep a guard.

He was told he’d be used for his money by his father when he was only a little boy. I clouded his judgment, as much as he hated to it admit.

He giggles as he dances along with Taehyung, enjoying being distracted for the night—as well as wishing for his close friend to have a good time.

The giggles fade once he spots Jungkook and Hoseok entering the club, Hoseok almost tripping onto his own feet yet walking up to Seokjin, laughing. Jungkook watches as he sits on one of the stools by the bar, distant.

Jimin, still in his given tipsy mind state, raises an eyebrow.

The shorter boy walks slowly, makes his way into the stool next to the dark haired boy’s.

Jungkook either doesn’t notice, or simply decides to not address him. Jimin finds either one expected.

He gazes as Jungkook bottles down his beer before crossing his arms over the humid counter.

“Are you an imbecile?”

Jungkook abruptly stops his action of drinking the beer. His eyebrows furrow as he finally faces the younger, taking note of hos close he actually is.

“What?” His voice is raspy, tired.

Jimin knows he will most likely hit himself in the face in the morning for doing such figures. Yet, the tipsiness inside of his mind seems to possess all control as of the moment.

“I’ve been told things, Jeon Jungkook.” Jimin slurs, his eyes blinking slowly, “Most of them lead up to this question.”

Jungkook’s expression remains rock hard. Emotionless.

Hintless.

“What things?”

Jimin’s glossy lips form an O before he licks them, takes a minute to closely at the younger’s features. Jungkook’s eyes squint slightly once he realizes that Jimin is checking him out, in his pure, drunken state.

“Just things,” Jimin shrugs, his words drawn out, “Lots of things.”

Jungkook keeps quiet for a second. Only then, a small smirk grows onto his pink lips, still wet with beer.

“Lots of things, huh?”

Jimin giggles, finds himself almost falling off the stool.

“Mhmm.” He blonde closes his eyes for a minute, “Are they true?”

Jungkook’s expression remains, his eyes radiate endearment yet something else that Jimin is unable to decipher.

“Maybe.”

Jimin giggles again.

“I think I drank too much.”

“Probably.”

“Don’t tell Joonie-Hyung.” Jimin sings and Jungkook’s eyebrow lifts, the subtle smirk still plastered onto his lips.

“Hey, Kook.” Hoseok suddenly calls over for the younger.

Jungkook nods in his directions, bottles down the remaining beer left in the glass bottle before rising to his feet.

He makes his way over to Hoseok, but not before bending over slightly until he reaches the same height of Jimin’s ear.

“Yes, I’m an imbecile.” He whispers with a glorious smirk, not looking back as he walks away.

 


 

 

“Don’ worry, Mother,” Jimin sighed into his phone, watercolor brush on his other hand and the warm sun that passed through the windows reflecting upon his features, “I’ll be home on time. I always am.”

Jimin easily considered Thursday afternoons his favorite time of the week, by far. The only couple of peaceful hours that he was able to spend without the heaviness that hangs off from his family, the pressure from all of his higher level classes and any troubles that kept his mind busy for the time being, really.

He had adored arts ever since he was small, felt as if the concept of time was lost once he got immersed in it. Though, arts was simply not his family’s ideal. Never had been.

Hence why he keeps all of his artworks hidden in one of the drawers in the Arts classroom, not willing to risk his parents ever coming across them and arguing with them for over an entire day. He knew it wasn’t a real option for his future—listens as his mother tells her friends how graceful of a lawyer he will be whenever they’re over.

So Thursday afternoons became the only glimpse of time in which he was simply able to just be.

“I promise, Mother,” Jimin continues sighing, the phone growing warm against his ear, “Jihyun’s just probably in one of his moods. He’ll be fine, I’ll talk to him once I’m home. Yeah?”

Too immersed in the conversation, only a minute later he notices the presence of no other than Jeon Jungkook entering the classroom. Wearing his usual black hoodie, black pants and black boots. His hair is messier than usual.

He watches as he drops a brown bag onto one of the wooden cubicles, assigned to each student. Only a moment later, they make eye contact. Jimin visibly gulps, yet doesn’t bring himself to look away from Jungkook’s undecipherable gaze.

“No, yeah, that’s fine,” Jimin rushes his mother’s talk to be over, wanting to still be able to enjoy the time that he still had left, “I’m just—uh, homework club, Mother I told you. Helps with, you know, extra credit and stuff. “ He lies.

Jungkook’s eyebrow rises at that—clearly caught on on the fact that Jimin was lying to his Mother. Jimin could tell he became curious for a second, yet withdrew his gaze from the older boy’s soon after that.

“Alright, okay. I’ll see you at home, bye.”

Once the phone call is over Jimin bites his lips as he puts the phone back in his pocket. He wonders if Jungkook recalls that he had called him an imbecile.

Of course he did.

He clears his throat, does his best to pretend that Jungkook wasn’t in the room doing whatever he was doing. He looks over at his finished painting—content with the result. He had been working extra hard on some of the techniques he had been reading about as well.

“Where’s the damn camera,” He mutters to himself, busy looking for the small Cannon camera that he used to take pictures of his works in case something was to happen to them, “Shit.”

He grunts, cracks his neck as he closes the drawers that he had been searching. “Someone must’ve taken it.”

Defeated, he closes his eyes and lays back into his chair. He could use his phone, he thinks for a moment, though it wouldn’t do any justice to the quality of the work.

His eyes snap open once he hears a sound coming from his desk. He meets the sight of a big, black camera. Definitely a lot more advanced than he was used to dealing with. His eyes widen as they reach higher, the sigh of Jungkook standing there with his hands inside of the hoodie pocket.

“Oh—Uh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs, indifferent as he walks towards the exit of the room, stopping at the doorframe, “But if anything happens to it, I’ll kill you.”

Jimin gulps, though he doesn’t allow for the intimidating to be clearly displayed onto his face.

He squints his eyes slightly, still struck as to why Jungkook was doing him a favor in the first place, “Kill me?”

Jungkook raises his chin, his jaw locking in.

“Might as well.” He smirks softly, “After all, I’m imbecile, aren’t I?”

Jimin gasps absentmindedly and closes his eyes in embarrassment, he opens his mouth to make a response but once his eyes open again Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

 


 

 

Jimin gulps as he takes one step forward into the red, old door that was by the entrance of the small house.

To say that the house was in poor condition would be an understatement, he practically feels like an entitled asshole by simply staring at it. He was well aware that Jungkook and him had grown up in different environments, though he was only seeing it for himself as of right now.

He licks his lips, has been staring at the door for a solid ten minutes now. The camera bag hanging from his shoulder.

He shouldn’t of done this. Should’ve just convinced Momo to take the camera herself and go. Or Hoseok. Or Taehyung. Anyone else but him.

It takes him twenty minutes to finally knock on the wooden door, fist slightly shaking as he does so.

He waits. No one comes.

As he is about to knock again—the door finally opens.

“Oh! How nice to see a new face!”

It’s an old man. His voice is raspy and a grey robe is wrapped around his body. His hair is dark with hints of grey and he looks worn out.

He almost believes he has gone to the wrong house, until—

“Are you one of Jungkook-ah’s friends? Oh, how lovely!” The man grins, “I haven’t met any friends of his except for Momo.”

Jimin smiles softly, opens his mouth to speak yet shuts it once he hears someone else approaching them from behind the man.

“Dad, I told you I’d get the doo—” Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly before his eyebrow lifts, “What are you doing here?”

Jimin’s heart suddenly races, he clears his throat.

“I—uh,” He gulps, “Momo g-gave me your address—”

“She what?” Jungkook presses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Your camera. I told her, I needed to give you back the camera.” Jimin stutters out, handing out the black bag that contained the most likely expensive camera.

Jungkook’s gaze softens slightly at Jimin’s words. He takes the bag and places it inside.

“Thanks—”

“Aren’t you going to invite him inside? Where are your manners Jungkook.” His father says, “I raised you better.”

The man chuckles as he grins at Jimin before limping into the house. Jimin stays outside unsure, until his gaze drifts back to Jungkook’s.

The taller boy hesitates before sighing and opening the door further, only motioning for him to come inside with his head.

Jimin thinks about coming up with an excuse to simply deny and go back home. To normality, safety. Yet, for reasons he is unable to bring himself to call out, he simply gulps as he nods—walking into the small house.

Jimin gulps as he takes one step forward into the red, old door that was by the entrance of the small house.

 

To say that the house was in poor condition would be an understatement, he practically feels like an entitled asshole by simply staring at it. He was well aware that Jungkook and him had grown up in different environments, though he was only seeing it for himself as of right now.

 

He licks his lips, has been staring at the door for a solid ten minutes now. The camera bag hanging from his shoulder.

 

He shouldn’t of done this. Should’ve just convinced Momo to take the camera herself and go. Or Hoseok. Or Taehyung. Anyone else but him.

 

It takes him twenty minutes to finally knock on the wooden door, fist slightly shaking as he does so.

 

He waits. No one comes.

 

As he is about to knock again—the door finally opens.

 

“Oh! How nice to see a new face!”

 

It’s an old man. His voice is raspy and a grey robe is wrapped around his body. His hair is dark with hints of grey and he looks worn out.

 

He almost believes he has gone to the wrong house, until—

 

“Are you one of Jungkook-ah’s friends? Oh, how lovely!” The man grins, “I haven’t met any friends of his except for Momo.”

 

Jimin smiles softly, opens his mouth to speak yet shuts it once he hears someone else approaching them from behind the man.

 

“Dad, I told you I’d get the doo—” Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly before his eyebrow lifts, “What are you doing here?”

 

Jimin’s heart suddenly races, he clears his throat.

 

“I—uh,” He gulps, “Momo g-gave me your address—”

 

“She what?” Jungkook presses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

 

“Your camera. I told her, I needed to give you back the camera.” Jimin stutters out, handing out the black bag that contained the most likely expensive camera.

 

Jungkook’s gaze softens slightly at Jimin’s words. He takes the bag and places it inside.

 

“Thanks—”

 

“Aren’t you going to invite him inside? Where are your manners Jungkook.” His father says, “I raised you better.”

 

The man chuckles as he grins at Jimin before limping into the house. Jimin stays outside unsure, until his gaze drifts back to Jungkook’s.

 

The taller boy hesitates before sighing and opening the door further, only motioning for him to come inside with his head.

 

Jimin thinks about coming up with an excuse to simply deny and go back home. To normality, safety. Yet, for reasons he is unable to bring himself to call out, he simply gulps as he nods—walking into the small house.


 

Jungkook’s living room is small, occupied by a yellow carpet and one single couch. A little TV on a wooden stand and a fireplace by its side, open to the kitchen.

He listens as Jungkook closes the door, watches as his father begins to have an extremely loud coughing. Before he is able to do anything to help, Jungkook is already by the old man’s side—coaching him to sit down on the couch.

Jimin frowns slightly—this was most likely the reason Jungkook had kept himself gone.

Jungkook brings a cup of water to his father’s mouth, the coughing decreases once the man drinks it. Jimin takes a second to properly eye Jungkook. He was dressed in a white shirt, dirty everywhere. What he guessed to be mechanic oil was spilled all over his pants, shirt, forearm and even on his face.

“You shouldn’t of gotten up.” Jungkook grunts as he rises to his feet, setting the empty cup down on the wooden plastic table that was placed in the middle of the kitchen.

“Ah, stop that, Jungkook-ah,” His father chuckles and dismisses him, “I’m not one hundred years old and incapable. Don’t take care of me like that.”

“I’ll stop when you start taking care of yourself.” Jungkook grumbles as he hands his father the TV remote, cleans the oil from his hands with a towel he had grabbed from the kitchen.

“How about you? What’s your name, son?”

Caught of guard, Jimin clears his throat. He feels Jungkook’s heavy gaze on him.

“Jimin, Sir.” He shakes his hand, “Park Jimin.”

His father opens his mouth in slight surprise before smiling, “Oh, the Parks’ kid. I see your family on TV all the time, it must be diff—”

“Jimin’s actually in a hurry, Dad. If you don’t mind—”

Jimin’s eyes meet Jungkook’s, he wonders if Jungkook was doing it to save Jimin from the discomfort of the comment that was about to be made or simply because he wants him away.

“Oh, what a shame.” Mr.Jeon frowns, “He can’t leave without seeing your work though!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Dad, seriously, he doesn’t wan—”

“Of course he wants to! You work so hard on it, surely your friends are curious on why you’re always away, scooped up at home.” Mr.Jeon jokes, Jimin can feel Jungkook growing annoyed, “Aren’t you, Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin refuses to meet the younger’s gaze—too intimidated to do so. Unsure of why he grows himself into this curious person whenever he’s around Jungkook. Jimin always knew to stick to his business, his family had taught him this was how to live.

Yet, Jungkook challenged Jimin so easily.

“Sure.” Jimin gulps.

He hears as Jungkook sighs, Mr.Jeon smiling.

For a split second, Jimin envies Jungkook for having a father like that.

“Whatever.” The brown haired boy shrugs as he walks through the hallway.

Jimin looks over at his father, unsure. However, ends up following the younger once his father motions him to, knowingly.

The two stop at a small garage, tools laying messily on every inch of it. Jimin takes the freedom to look around for a second, seemingly enjoying having a deeper glimpse into the younger’s life.

A bike is placed in the middle, big and black. On one of its sides there’s a plastic table with books and a couple of more tools on top of it.

Jimin keeps quiet, rests his body against one of the walls. He watches in silence as Jungkook puts some of the tools back into place.

The silence stills.

“If you want to ask, just do it.” Jungkook says, back turned to Jimin.

The blonde boy’s eyes snap up, he sighs before bringing himself to ask the question.

“What’s wrong with your father?”

“Heart condition.”

“Oh.”

“Had an incident at work, ended up in the hospital. It’s why I’ve been gone.”

Jimin’s heart suddenly tightens, he closes his eyes for a minute.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook shrugs, “Not your fault.”

“I can still be sorry.”

“I suppose.”

The silence returns. Jimin finds himself simply following Jungkook’s movements once again, watches as he cleans each tool and places it clean.

His eyes hover over the bike, again.

“Are you fixing it?” He finds the guts to ask.

Jungkook turns around, gaze finally meeting his.

“Building it.”

The older’s eyebrows shoot upwards, “From scratch?”

Jungkook shrugs and nods.

“Woah.” He whispers.

Jungkook wipes the sweat from his forehead as he takes a few steps towards the older.

Jimin takes a breath in, “Listen, Jun—”

“Look, I appreciate you coming all the way over here for the camera. I do.” Jungkook suddenly says as he reaches an extremely close distance from Jimin, the older feeling his breath hit against his lips, “But just because I made you a favor, it doesn’t mean we’re friends. Don’t come back here, okay?”

 


 

 

Jimin watches from one of the corners, beer half-drank in his left hand and shiny lip gloss on his lips. The music is loud and the crowd is big—as expected from one of Jihoon’s infamous parties.

He had spent the majority of the night giggling with Namjoon, though understood his cue to leave easily when Seokjin appeared with two shots in his hands a knowing smirk that was directed towards Namjoon.

He had also eyed Hoseok flirting with one of the football team players. Jimin rolled his eyes when he did so, Hoseok and his flings. He had always hated commitment, so it wasn’t unusual to see him here and there.

Jimin didn’t believe it was even worth mentioning the grossly manner of how Taehyung and Yoongi were shamelessly making out in one of the couches. He remembers how he used to make out with Jihoon on that same couch and swears he almost throws up into his own mouth.

He hadn’t spoken to Jihoon yet, only saw him once they walked into the full house. The deal was inevitable, he knew that, but he was surely not throwing away his chance at avoiding him.

The blonde boy sighs as he allows his body weight to rest against the wall behind him. Usually, Jimin would be in the center of the chaos—adding onto it. Not today, though.

He stays there for a while. On his own, observing the teenagers with their messy hormones getting sweaty as they dance or drunkenly fall to the side.

Could be better, but at least it did its purpose on serving as a distraction.

It’s only a couple of minutes after that he spots Jungkook. He’s talking to some guy for a second before he walks away. This time he’s wearing a black leather jacket—his hair as messy as always, however.

He knows he probably shouldn’t, though at least he had the excuse of alcohol to make a mistake like this. He approaches Jungkook.

He opts on not saying anything, simply copying Jungkook’s position as he leans against the wall, right by the younger.

Jungkook doesn’t spare him the glance—not that Jimin expected him to.

They just stay there, side by side, for a good moment.

“This beer’s shit.”

Jimin contains his laughter, “It is.”

Jungkook sighs, rests his head against the wall as he does so.

“His parties are always like this,” Jimin attempts at making conversation, “Fits a bunch of people into his little house and doesn’t really bother with much else.”

“If his house is little then what is mine?” Jungkook snorts annoyed.

Jimin’s eyes widen for a second, unsure of what to answer. Before he is able to even structure a remotely okay answer Jungkook switches subjects.

“How did you even get him to agree for me to come?” The younger grunts before drinking some more of his beer, slight face of disgust as he does so.

Jimin isn’t sure if he’s glad or annoyed that the brown haired boy was successful to change the subject.

He sighs, “I have to dance with him for one full song.”

Jungkook’s gaze drifts to him for the first time that night, beer now away from his mouth. His eyebrows are furrowed.

“You’re gonna dance with him?”

“Not by choice.”

“You say that until you have a couple of beers in.” Jungkook snorts.

Jimin glares at him, “Fuck you.”

“You’re stupid.” Jungkook mutters as he shakes his head.

“I’m doing this for you, asshole.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Do you want to dance with him?”

“What the fuck,” Jimin balances his weight back to his feet as he faces Jungkook, “No.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook smirks, “You don’t want to dance with him like that?” He asks as he motions with his head in the direction of Jihoon grinding against some girl, his grip tight onto her hips.

Jimin turns his gaze back at the younger, “No.”

“Then why’d you say yes?” Jungkook smugs, Jimin could truly hit him right now.

“You know why.” Jimin hisses.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Jimin asks, annoyed at how easily Jungkook was able to rile him up.

“Say no.”

“Then you wouldn’t come.”

“And I’ll ask again,” Jungkook’s the one who rises to his feet this time, the distance between the two dangerously small as he towers over Jimin, “Why do you care?”


 

“I believe you owe me a dance, Princess.” Jihoon says into Jimin’s ear from behind him, interrupting his conversation with Jungkook.

Jimin squirms at the smell of weed mixed with alcohol that invades his nose once the boy he detests comes closer than he wishes.

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook shrugs, smirk still hanging from his lips.

Jimin’s eyes snap towards him as does Jihoon’s.

“Watch your mouth, Jeon. You’re lucky enough I let you in.” Jihoon bickers.

Jungkook chuckles.

“The fuck are you laughing at?” Jihoon’s irritated posture grows as he takes a step forward.

Jimin’s eyes widen—he stays quiet.

“You.” Jungkook shrugs.

Jimin’s never seen this side of Jungkook—it takes him more than a second to process what is happening right in front of him.

“You better watch your mouth, prick. Or else.” Jihoon mutters. His gaze switches back to Jimin. “Now, about that dance.”

Jimin takes a breath in, it’s been a long time since he’s been this close to Jihoon. He doesn’t enjoy it in the slightest.

“You wanna dance with him?” Jungkook asks Jimin directly, eyebrow now raised.

He knew the answer.

Jimin hesitates, opting not to make eye contact with Jihoon as he shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if he wants to or not—we have a deal.” Jihoon snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, “If he doesn’t dance with me, you leave.”

Jimin sighs, “Fin—”

“Alright,” Jungkook shrugs as he adjusts his jacket, he takes a step closer to Jihoon in his own mockery, “Bye.”

And just like that, he walks away.

“Jungkook.” Jimin calls out, though it’s useless due to the ridiculously loud music that blasts over the entire house, “Jungkook, wait.”

But before he is able to reach the door, the younger one’s already out of sight.

 


 

 

Jimin ignores Jihoon’s shouting voice, calling for his name. Instead he runs through the entrance door, meeting with the sight of a couple of people smoking in the backyard—some even making out.

It takes him a second to recognize Momo, she’s talking to three other girls he can’t bring himself to recall their names. He walks towards her, the cold wind breezing through his hair—not even sure as to what time it is.

“Momo—”

“He went that way,” She motioned to her left with her head, knowingly, “Walking. Not sure to where, though.”

Jimin smiles, she returns it.

“Thank you.”

“Careful though,” Momo furrows her eyebrows, “It’s late. You can probably just talk to him tomorrow, or—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assures, “As much as I hate it, I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand.”

It takes a second for Momo to understand, “Jihoon?”

Jimin purses his lips, nodding.

“Well, then—just, be careful. Okay?” She says.

“Don’t worry.” Jimin nods, brushes his hand against her shoulder in acknowledgement. “I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t mean the neighborhood, now.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow slightly before he comes to understand as to what Momo is referring to.

Jungkook.

“He just—I know he’s been a bit of an dick—”

“Momo—”

“He’s a good guy, Jimin.” She says seriously, something else hidden in her face expression, though the glimpse of alcohol in Jimin’s body doesn’t allow him to properly focus and decipher as to what it is.

“I know.”

 


 

 

It’s dark.

Very dark.

Jimin should probably be filling up with regret. Regret on coming out of the comfort of that party—not that it had a lot, considering Jihoon was in it. Regret on chasing Jungkook, not even knowing what he was going to do when or if he found him.

Though, he’s not.

Regret isn’t filling his body, drop by drop. Fear, however, he wouldn’t deny fear.

He should’ve of brought a jacket—it’s colder than he remembers it being once he left the house. The wind going against his small silhouette.

The fear grows with the harsh sound of the leaves from the bigger trees going against each other with the strength of the wind.

Jimin gulps.

The fear reaches it’s bigger level once he swears he hears footsteps behind him, turns around quickly—only to find nobody.

It happens again, and again.

Though the last time, they feel so close. Jimin could freeze up in both senses—due to the cold or the escalating fear that develops in his body. He was never the biggest fan of the dark either, always being the one distracting Jihyun whenever there was a thunderstorm and the power would go out.

He takes a deep breath before turning around to check, once again. Heart quickened when he saw nothing.

He screams out once he turns back around and no one other than Jeon Jungkook is standing right in front of him, only a couple of centimeters away.

“You piece of—You scared me!”

“Shouldn’t walk alone this late.” He mocks, a hint of a smirk in his lips and his eyebrow lifted.

Jimin huffs, “Then neither should you.”

Jungkook hums and purses his lips, “Hmm, no. I could.”

The older looks up at him, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t nearly intimidated by the way of how the younger simply towered over him.

Jungkook keeps quiet for a minute, then a full smirk grows on his lips.

He bends down until the distance between the two is as small as it once was at the party that they had just escaped from.

“Because I’m not tiny.” He shrugs, before walking past Jimin.

“Hey—Get back here,” Jimin glares, jogs a little to try and catch up with the taller boy, ends up trailing behind him, “You—You—”

The way in which Jungkook is simply walking casually, yet Jimin requires a quicker walking speed in order to have the same pace as the younger turns rather comedic.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is imbecile.” Jungkook mocks, hands in the pockets of his jacket now and walking pace not slowing down.

 


 

 

“Go home, Jimin.” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

They’ve been walking around the neighborhood for what feels like hours. Unexpectedly, not much talking fills the emptiness of the streets.

When Jimin doesn’t answer him, only continues on walking stubbornly Jungkook huffs.

“Why did you even follow me?”

The younger one has his eyebrows furrowed, hands still hidden in the pockets of his jacket.

“I didn’t.” Jimin lies defensively, “Just, came for a walk.”

“A walk? At 3AM?” Jungkook snorts, now looking forward instead, “Maybe you really are stupid.”

This time, Jimin does hit him. Shoves him slightly to the side, though Jungkook only rolls his eyes at him. Doesn’t offer him the reaction that he knew he most likely was searching for by doing so.

“Go home.” He repeats, tired.

“I don’t want to go home.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at the words, “Why? Isn’t your home like a fucking little heavenly palace with unicorns and Ferraris flying around, or some shit?”

Jimin stops in his tracks once Jungkook’s done talking. His expression turns rather serious and Jungkook turns to face him.

“Jungkook, I didn’t judge you based on what’ve I’ve seen.” He says, “So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, either.”

A minute of silence passes by along with the wind.

Until Jungkook takes a step forward—forging back into the ridiculously intimidating position in which he towers over the blonde boy. Jimin really wished he’d stopped doing so, it became difficult to not visibly gulp.

“You didn’t judge me?” Jungkook asks, eyebrow lifted, “Really? So, you didn’t come and ask me if I was an imbecile based on things you heard? You didn’t keep your distance from me all this time based on said things? Your brother didn’t spread around that I’m the one who broke into your dad’s little office and stole his shit?”

Fucking Jihyun.

“I’m not my brother.”

Jungkook keeps quiet. His takes a moment to stare at Jimin’s eyes, as if attempting to decode anything that was possibly hidden behind them.

Jimin’s heart was pacing so quickly, begging to burst out of his chest at any given moment now.

“Do you think I did it?” Jungkook asks, Jimin can feel the sincerity that radiates through his question.

The thing about Jungkook—Jimin had learnt, was that when he spoke to you, it’s almost as if he already knew what you would answer. Almost like he played a little game while doing so.

Yet, Jimin knew this was a real question. Something Jungkook was truly searching for.

Jimin returns the truthful gaze back at the younger before he answers.

“No.”

And for a split second, Jimin swears he could see a hint of surprise in Jungkook’s face. Though, he quickly falls back onto his characteristic emotionless expression.

They stay like that for a minute, just staring at each other.

Jungkook turns around and continues to walk.

Jimin stays still—unsure of what to do. What this could possibly mean.

“Are you coming or not.” Jungkook huffs, not bothering to look back, well aware that Jimin would follow closely behind once he had said that.

“Where are we going?”

Jimin doesn’t get an answer.

Not that he’s surprised by it, anyway.


 

“No.” Jimin stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest, “Absolutely not.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, already standing on the beginning of the rock pier. The waves crashed on each side, the smell of alcohol being replaced by the sea.

“You’re not gonna fall.”

“I can’t swim.” Jimin’s wide eyed expression unravels, “I don’t know how.”

“Of course, you don’t.” Jungkook mutters as he cracks his neck, eyes slightly endeared at the sight of scaredy-cat Jimin.

Jimin was practically known for being confident. For not caring what others truly thought of him, because he simply displayed that he was above. The envy that radiated from certain people whenever he’d pass by them in the school hallways was ridiculously obvious.

Therefore, Jungkook excused himself for feeling a hint of endearment in seeing how vulnerable the older one looked right now.

“Just come.”

Jimin looks at him, legs almost shaking in fear. He shakes his head in rejection.

Jungkook shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

The taller boy turns around and starts walking further into the pier, the waves becoming louder as he does so.

“Wait!”

He stops, smirk overtakes his lips.

He turns to face Jimin, the older one with his lips pursed—plainly unsure of what he was about to do.

Jimin stays still, most likely frozen in his place.

Jungkook rolls his eyes once again, and extends his hand towards the smaller boy.

Jimin looks at the hand for a good minute before finally taking it, going down the step and walking into the pier.

“See? Not that bad.” Jungkook smugs, letting go of Jimin’s hand.

The blonde boy gulps, “If I fall and drown, I’ll tell everyone you killed me.”

“Whatever, everyone already thinks I’m a criminal, anyway.” Jungkook snorts.

Jimin’s gaze fixates on him, growing serious.

“Chill, I’m joking.”

They keep on walking through the pier steadily, “Not.” Jungkook says under his breath.

Jimin pretends not to hear.

But he does.

And it hurts.

When they reach the end of the pier, Jungkook sits down, legs hanging only a meter or so from the crashing, dark waves.

Jimin thinks about insulting the younger again, attempts to make a comeback. Yet, sticks to only slowly sitting down next to him without a fight.

“Why don’t you want to go home?”

The sudden question that leaves Jungkook’s lips takes Jimin by surprise, his heart quickens. He forces himself to remain indifferent.

There’s a pause.

“Let’s just say that, this castle that you believe my home to be,” Jimin licks his lips, braces himself with his own arms due to the cold, “Isn’t that much of a fairytale.”

Jungkook stares at Jimin for a second, before returning to the waves.

He isn’t searching for pity—Jungkook knows that.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin asks, suddenly.

Jungkook shrugs, “You’re gonna do it, anyway.”

Jimin smiles faintly instead of glaring.

“Where’s your mother?”

The questions stings on Jungkook. Jimin knows this was going to be a deal breaker, either Jungkook would never speak to him again afterwards, or he’d be force himself to continue.

Jungkook stays quiet, as expected.

“I don’t know nor care.” Jungkook says. Tone more easy going than Jimin had expected.

“You… don’t know?” Jimin’s tone is cautious, as if Jungkook was about to snap at him at any given moment.

“I know she’s an addict. But other than that, she’s a stranger. I don’t want anything to do with her just like she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Jimin bites his bottom lip, eyes still stuck on the younger’s side profile as he watches the waves. The sounds becoming somewhat soothing.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t do that.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You didn’t ask for pity, neither do I. Don’t go down that road.”

The first impulse that grows on the blonde boy’s body is to slap him in the face. Though, for some unknown reason. He gets it.

So he stays quiet.

They remain like that for a good long time, taking in the waves. Jimin’s fear subsiding.

“Give me your jacket.” Jimin suddenly finds the guts to say. More like, demand.

Jungkook’s eyebrow rises, “What?”

“I’m cold. Give me your jacket.”

Jungkook squints his eyes slightly, “Well, guess you should’ve thought about that before you randomly came on a walk at 3AM, then.”

Jimin purses his lips.

“Maybe,” He says, eyes becoming soft, “But one of us is tiny and the other one is an imbecile. Which one do you think should have the jacket?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He raises his chin—a smirk growing on his lips for a split second before he huffs.

Jimin stays still, watching him.

Jungkook sighs as he takes his black, leather jacket off.

“Fair enough.”

Before Jimin could even say anything, the oversized, warm jacket is placed around him.

Jimin looks over at Jungkook with half a smile, his mouth opens—

“Don’t thank me. You’ll ruin it.” Jungkook says.

Jimin purses his lips.

He doesn’t thank him.

“Hey, Jungkook-ah?”

“Huh?”

“Are we friends, now?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

 


 

Jungkook cracks his neck as he puts away the dirty tool into the plastic table. He eyes his bike for a solid moment before getting up—after getting called by his father into the living room.

“Dad? You called?” He asks absentmindedly as he cleans his hands with a towel.

“Yes, yes.” His father nods as he pulls one of the chairs by the table backwards next to his, “Sit.”

Jungkook nods as he does so, a hint of happiness accommodating him by seeing his father in a better condition lately.

“What’s up?” He asks, his weight shifting to his elbows as they rest on the table.

“I uh, I received an email from your school about some school ski trip—”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, “Oh, that. It’s nothing, don’t worry about—”

“Let me talk, Jungkook-ah.” His father says.

Jungkook’s slightly taken aback by the serious tone. He’s known his father to always be a jokester, downplay any negativity that he ever cam across.

His breath hitches once he sees his father pull out a white envelope and drag it into the table.

“I have been saving up for a while now, it took me long but—”

“Dad, no—we are not gonna waste money on a stupid tri—”

“It’s my money,” His father huffs, “And I asked to let me talk.”

Jungkook’s jaw locks, though all he ends up finding himself doing is sighing. Defeated.

“I,” His father starts, purses his lips beforehand, “I know you’ve been deprived of a lot of things, Son. You’ve had a lot taken away from you, far too early. I mean—for crying out loud, I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of you not the other way around.”

“Dad—" Jungkook shakes his head.

“You work too much, you worry about the bills—and it just. It causes me pain, it does. You’re my kid.”

There’s a pause.

Jungkook’s heart tightens.

“A-And I love you and I want you to live a good life, make good memories.”

He pushes the envelope filled with the exact amount of money required for the trip forward onto Jungkook’s hand.

“So, please.” His father begs, “Let me do this for you. Let me do something, for once.”

Jungkook stares at the envelope for a moment.

“Jesus, Dad.” He mutters, eyes watery and the knot on his throat growing.

His jaw locks as he takes the envelope into his own hands and looks at his father. He wants to say something, truly—more than anything.

Though, all he body allows him to do is gulp. As if he’s just plainly stuck, hanging from his father’s words.

After a second, he pulls the older man into a hug. It was tight and secure.

And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt thankful for having the life that he did.

 


 

 

Jimin sighs, closing the glass door behind him.

He takes a second to look around his own home—white, clean and with an amount of unnecessary windows.

It kinda does look like a castle.

He mentally prepares himself to address his brat of a brother. Wonder why the 14 year old was set on putting all of the blame on Jungkook—when there wasn’t even remotely any proof. Or more importantly, when his dad wasn’t even going for a formal investigation after all.

He walks up the staircase, makes his way into his brother’s room.

He reaches the open door, but before he is able to get into the room—something catches his attention fairly quickly. Something shiny.

Jihyun has his back turned, sitting on the bed. He’s holding that something and places it on the bed.

And after staring at it for a couple of seconds it clicks. It all clicks.

“It was you.” Jimin breathes out.

It’s the watches that were placed in his father’s office.

 

His brother turns around quickly as he rises to his feet.

His eyes widen at the disbelief that is displayed upon Jimin’s expression.

“Y-You little—”

“Jimin, Hyung I—”

“How fucking dare you?” Jimin hisses, takes a step forward into his room. “Going around on your bratty ass making Jungkook out to be some kind of monster when it was you all along.”

“You don’t get it! He deserved it!” Jihyun yelled, tears swelling in his eyes.

“Jungkook?!”

“No!” The kid grunted, frustrated, “Dad!”

Jimin goes quiet.

“Jihyun—”

“He cheated on Mom! I saw him with my own eyes!”

The older’s heart tightens as he closes his eyes, sighing.

“That’s—That’s not an excuse for what you did—”

“I know, okay? I know.” Jihyun attempts to clean his teary eyes with his fists.

“Do you?” Jimin furrows his eyebrows as he sits on the bed, looks up at his brother, “Do you, really? You committed a crime, Jihyun. On top of that you lied about it, and accused someone else—someone innocent of being to blame for your mistakes!”

“I’m sorry! Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Jimin chuckles humorless, bewildered by his brother’s behavior.

“You don’t get it, do you? Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, Jihyun.” Jimin scolds, “This isn’t one of your little tantrums that you force me and Mom to deal with all the time. This is serious—”

“He gets away with everything,” Jihyun cries, shakes his head, “Treats everyone so badly yet gets all the money, all the attention, all the power, us—it’s not fair! He can’t keep getting away with—”

“It’s not your job to worry about that!” Jimin finally yells, the room growing uncomfortably silent, “You’re a kid, for fucks sake.”

“I’m sorry.” Jihyun’s voice grows small, vulnerable. Young.

He’s just a kid.

“I-I was so furious when I saw him with that woman I-I wasn’t thinking and I just went straight there a-and—”

“Breathe.” Jimin softens, placing a palm on his little brother’s wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He sobs, “I-I don’t know what to do.”

Jimin made a promise to himself when his brother was born into the world. And it was that no matter what, he’d protect his brother. His brother became his responsibility.

Jimin sees Jihyun for what he truly is in that glimpse of time. A broken kid.

And though Jimin knew he might be resisting to his own strength in doing so—he ends up pulling Jihyun into a hug, hand softly the back of his head as the kid sobs into Jimin’s shirt, making it wet.

“We’ll…We’ll figure something out.”

“Y-You can’t tell Dad.” Jihyun hiccups, “He-He’ll send me to that M-Military School like h-he threatened to b-before.”

“Shhh.” Jimin hushes him, urges him to calm down.

“P-Promise me, Jimin, you h-have to promise me.”

“I’ll promise you on one condition,” Jimin says, jaw locked, “You apologize to Jungkook, yourself. And you’ll stop spreading lies about him—or anyone for that matter.”

There’s a silent moment, Jihyun’s uneven breathing and sniffles filling in the empty spaces.

“Okay.”

 


 

 

Jimin sighs shakily as he stares at the golden “437” plastered on the wooden door. He bites his lip—the uncertainty of why he is about to do what he is about to do is more than present, occupying every single thought process that he was undergoing.

What the fuck am I thinking .

He’s about to turn around, right before an aggressive thud shakes the cabin and has him yelp. The door is opened and the blonde boy is now inside room that isn’t his own.

He looks around, darkness except from the bit of light that comes in from the street through the small window. One of the beds empty, the other one with a sleeping Jungkook in it.

He takes a shaky breath in and holds it as he slowly tip toes to the side of Jungkook’s bed.

Jimin’s eyes soften as he takes in the sight of the sound sleeping boy. It contrasted so incredibly with the overall thunderstorm atmosphere. As if Jungkook held in a little safe haven within himself.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what Jimin was after.

“Jungkook?” He whispers, voice cracking.

No response, only the continuation of the subtle snores from the younger.

He looked so soft like this—with no cold hard expression.

Jimin purses his lips as he extends his hand out, taps his lightly on his shoulder.

“J-Jungkook.” He whispers again.

“Hmm.” Jungkook groans into his pillow, he opens his eyes slightly, “What are you doing here?” His voice raspy and hair messy, all over the place.

Though Jimin wouldn’t dare to call what it what it is. He sits on the side of the bed, close to Jungkook.

“I uh—” The blonde boy gets interrupted by another thud of lightning, a small shriek busting out from his pink lips.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow and rolls his eyes at that.

“Seriously?”

Jimin purses his lips in embarrassment, he shouldn’t of had come here.

He decides to get up, yet another thud comes before he is able to and causes him to groan and cover his ears.

“If you’re gonna ask, just get it over with.” Jungkook mutters into his pillow, doe eyes closed again.

Jimin gulps, feeling no strength whatsoever to deal with anything that required such thing as of right now.

As he is about to open his mouth, Jungkook lifts the covers with his right hand. Jimin wide eyes him for a second.

“Either you hurry in or leave.” The younger mutters again, his eyes still close. It was clear that the tiredness dominated his body.

Jimin takes a breath in before sliding under the covers, back turned to Jungkook. The warmth of the bed enwraps his body in a comforting manner.

He thinks of what to say—though decides on nothing.

Another thud comes, this time Jimin only shakes a little bit—no yelps are heard or echoed throughout the room.

Then, suddenly, he feels Jungkook’s arm wrap around his waist, his forehead resting against the back of his neck.

“You seriously need to learn to ask for what you want.” Jungkook grunts only a couple of seconds before falling into his snoring pattern again.

Jimin gulps, overwhelmed by the safety that he feels in Jungkook’s hold. He doesn’t recall ever feeling this way.

He follows Jungkook into deep sleep, thunderstorm nightmares long forgotten and small, chubby hand on top of Jungkook’s.

The tiny felt saved by the imbecile.

Who would’ve thought.

 


 

 

“This is it. I’m going to die.” Jimin mutters to himself as he wide eyes the large amounts of snow in front of him along with the people skiing.

They had spent the first two hours in a collective lesson—not that Jimin had properly learnt anything. His worries being rather loud inside of his head as he anticipated the terrifying thing that is skiing.

“Just do it. You’ll be fine.” Hoseok elbows him lightly in encouragement as he adjusts his beanie and goes on to skiing ahead.

Jimin watches, standing still. He gulps as he looks down at his stuck feet, then back at the snow.

“This is it—my death has come.” He whispers to himself, he adjusts his gloves and cracks his neck, ignores the way his body is shaking heavily, he prepares to set off, “Oh, God—”

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Jimin’s eyes snap towards the voice, backwards.

It’s Jungkook.

He’s wearing a black suit—black everything, really. Not that it came as a surprise to anyone, really. His hair messed up slightly by the wind. His eyes seemed clearer and his skin shinier.

Jimin’s heart squeezes—he decides not to question it. Too scared of the answer.

The older doesn’t answer, only gulps, attempts to slow down the embarrassing way of how his body is being utterly dominated by its own shakiness.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at Jimin’s stillness, he steps forward—now only a couple of centimeters behind Jimin.

“Here.” He mutters as he bends down, places his hands on the back of Jimin’s knees and bends them.

Jimin’s eyes widen as red dusts over his cheeks. And it definitely wasn’t because of the cold.

He gulps as he allows the younger to maneuver his body.

The laughs from everyone around them as they had their fun practicing the sport became rather incoherent inside of the blonde boy’s head.

Jungkook gets up, and just when Jimin believed he was done, he feels the younger’s bigger hands on his hips and arches them forward.

Jimin’s breath hitches as Jungkook’s hands leave his skin—well, clothes.

“There.” The younger mutters, moving along to Jimin’s side, “Stay like that as you go and just maybe you won’t fall to your death.”

Jimin looks at him, purses his lips as he nods slightly.

Jungkook snorts—most likely enjoying how embarrassed Jimin looked. He puts his beanie on and adjusts his equipment. He turns to look over at the older, whi’s still taking deep breathes in preparation.

“By the way,” He smugs as he gets ready to take off, “I still want my jacket back.”

Jimin’s eyes widen slightly, but before he is able to look over at the younger he’s already taken off.

Damn the imbecile.

 


 

 

Jimin fiddles with the hem of his sweater, he takes a moment to eye everyone in the room. They’ve formed a significantly big circle in the living room of the main cabin—which is impressive, in all honesty.

He finds himself sitting between Seokjin and Namjoon, rolls his eyes whenever he catches Seokjin attempting to wink at Namjoon.

The game has been going on for a while now—filled with a lot of tongue-y kisses which Jimin grimaced at.

For some reason, the blonde boy finds his gaze always ending up drifting to one of the corners where no one other than Jungkook is sitting in. Grey sweatpants and a black shirt, back against the wall. He seems as if he could fall asleep at any given time now, which Jimin subtly smiles fondly at.

“Alright, Namjoon-ah,” Taehyung grins mischievously which causes in Namjoon rolling his eyes, placing a bet on what’s to come, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Namjoon shrugs.

Taehyung purses his lips knowingly, “I dare you to kiss Jin.”

The giggles come from all corners of the room, a tiny smiled earned from Jimin himself. Expected and awaited.

Seokjin blushes as Namjoon calmly—as always—reaches over to his front, not waiting more than a minute to crash their lips together.

“Finally.” Someone says, probably Yoongi, from one of the corners along with the subtle cheers.

Namjoon smiles softly when he brings the kiss to a stop, seating down next to Seokjin this time.

“Alright, Namjoon it’s your turn—”

“Wait,” Jihoon raises his hand, Jimin’s heart twisting in fear with the memories that were left in it by Jihoon, “I have one.”

Namjoon shrugs carelessly, allowing him to take his turn instead.

Jimin wishes he hadn’t. Jihoon had displayed nothing but bitter behavior lately, he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Jimin.” He says.

Of course.

Jimin looks at him. He feels everyone’s burning gaze on him, including Jungkook’s.

Jihoon smirks, “Truth or dare?”

Jimin gulps, knowing the boy was planning on setting him up either way. There is simply no way he wouldn’t.

“Truth.” Jimin says, heart beating fast against his chest.

“Ah, how boring.” Jihoon rolls his eyes, “Alright. Fine.”

There’s a pause.

Jihoon looks over at Jungkook before turning his gaze back at the smaller boy. The room growing painfully silent.

No.

“Do you think Jungkook’s the one who stole your Dad’s money?”

"No."

 


 

 

“For someone who’s tiny, you cause a big impact.” Jungkook mutters against Jimin’s shoulder.

They have been sitting like for around fifteen minutes now, Jimin could swear that his heart was going to beat out of his chest forcefully any second now. The game had continued, thankfully the attention had drifted from the both of them.

Jimin glares at Jungkook as he turns his head over his shoulder.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response, chin raised and head resting against the white wall.

Jungkook’s lap is warm. Kind of cozy. Not that he would ever willingly admit it out loud, much less to Jungkook himself.

A tint of blush still hints at his cheeks.

The time passes by, Jimin stays quiet. The courage to say anything nowhere to be seen.

Until he feels something warm sneak around his waist and rest on his belly—Jungkook’s hand.

The blonde boy’s eyes widen and his heart accelerates again, looks around to check if anyone’s noticed—no one did. People too immerged in the hormonal game.

“W-What are you doing?” Jimin whispers as he looks back at Jungkook.

The younger is laying back comfortably now, eyes closed. “Getting comfortable. I’m gonna sleep.”

“But,” Jimin furrows his eyebrows innocently, “The game—”

“—Is stupid. Just like most people here.” Jungkook shrugs, eyes still closed.

Jimin looks over at Jungkook’s hand that rests on his belly and gulps, when he looks back at the dark haired boy he now has one eye cracked open. Eyebrow raised at the older.

Are you? Scared of me?” He teases, a curious glint in his eye.

Jimin’s taken aback by the question, “I—No.”

Jungkook snorts, eye closing again, “Right. Forgot tiny over here was scared of everything.”

Jimin gasps, offended. He turns back to make a comeback at the younger, though all he finds himself able to do is grunt, “Imbecile.”

And he swears, that for a second he saw a hint of a smile in Jungkook’s lips. Just for a second.

As the game goes on, Jimin realizes how deep into sleep the younger becomes. He giggles silently at it once he does. By the time the game ends, Jimin finds himself already lying with his back against the Jungkook’s sleeping chest.

Damn you, Momo.


 

When Jungkook walks into the locker room, it’s filled with laughter. Some of the guys are shirtless. The majority doesn’t even take notice of his presence.

The licks his lips, blood boiling through his veins.

Once he stops Dongha, laughing on one of the corners with his helmet in his hands—all he sees is red.

He thinks about the heartbroken Momo that cried onto his chest for the whole night as they cuddled in her soft, pink bed. Jungkook didn’t even properly fit—his feet sticking out the bed, yet he stayed with her the entirety of the night. If there was a weakness to Jungkook, it would easily be his best friend.

He doesn’t think when he moves his way towards the cocky boy.

He doesn’t think when he collides his fist forcefully against said boy’s cheek.

He doesn’t think when he does it repeatedly.

His brain spins around once he feels two pairs of arms wrapping around him and dragging him out of Dongha’s space, not without Dongha taking his own strike at Jungkook before, though.

It’s Taehyung and Hoseok who pull him back, he can feel the blood taste in his mouth. He doesn’t care.

He can hear the comments from all around the room from, “It’s the criminal”, “The sketchy fucker”. He doesn’t care.

He tries to move again, his mind feeling as if it’s trapped in its own terms of slow motion. Though Taehyung and Hoseok’s grips on him win his own fight.

“Get this useless piece of shit out of here!” Jihoon yells as he bends down to check if Dongha was alright.

He knows this isn’t just about Momo, anymore.

The years of constant comment, fights—accusations.

He was sick and tired.

Jungkook had reached his own limits just before he himself realized.

He releases himself from his friends’ hold in a snap, wipes up the blood from his cheek. He’s shaking with anger—he knows he has to get out of here. Everything that makes his blood boil is in this room.

He walks out of the room as an impulse, ignores the way both Taehyung and Hoseok call out his name as he walks away.

He’s hyperventilating. Tears form in his eyes—He doesn’t remember feeling anger like this, ever. It scared him.

Maybe, they’re right, after all.

“Jungkook, wait!” Jimin. “Where are you going?”

“Go away, Jimin.” He mutters, continues to walk through the empty, slightly dark hallway.

He hears Jimin’s footsteps quickening, most likely in an attempt to catch up to him.

Why is he so stubborn.

“Jungkook, stop.” Jimin begs as he aims to grab the younger’s wrist.

When Jungkook turns around to face Jimin—the blonde boy’s immediately taken aback by Jungkook’s state. Bloody cheek, shakiness and tears covering his eyes. Jimin never thought he’d ever see Jungkook cry.

He had heard the fight—hadn’t gotten there on time to stop it himself, though.

His heart aches, as if he feels Jungkook’s pain simply by looking at him.

Jungkook looks utterly broken.

“Go away, please, get away from me.”

Jimin shakes his head, expression growing distress.

“Jungkook—don’t do this—”

“They’re right, you know.” Jungkook says, voice raspy. His breathing interfering.

Jimin lets go of his wrist, he shakes his head—his heart feeling as if it is slowly breaking into a million, little pieces by the sight of the broken boy.

“They’re not.” Jimin denies, “Jungkook, you’re not those things.”

Jungkook keeps quiet for a moment, purses his lips as he looks around as if begging for his tears not to fall. Begging himself to not be that weak.

Though that’s the last thing Jimin would ever consider him to be right now.

“I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Bewildered, Jimin’s mouth opens slightly. He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to say.

As if this moment is only a blurry memory in his chaotic mind. He’d pray that it was for a moment.

“You’re not.” The older says, ignoring the way his own eyes start to become rather glassy, “You’re good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckles humorlessly at that.

“How do you know?” He argues, the tears finally running down his cheeks, “You don’t know me, Jimin.”

Jimin purses his lips, “Maybe not, no.”

Jungkook closes his eyes and his jaw locks—Jimin could tell he was holding himself back from breaking everything in his sight, from giving into the vulnerability that is haunting his mind right now.

“But,” Jimin breathes, “I do know that you defend your best friend through thick and thin. I do know how you take care of your father—how selfless you are about it, too.”

Jungkook’s worn out eyes meet his at that, jaw still locked.

“I know you walked out of a party alone for me not to dance with someone I didn’t want to. How you work all the time and never complain. How strong you are.”

“Jimin—” Jungkook shakes his head, his shakiness leaving his body without him taking notice.

Jimin’s voice had always soothed him. His words are slow, as if they take their own time to be made through Jimin’s lips. Though he’d never admit it out loud. Not even now.

“How you don’t hold grudges against your Mother, even though you should. How you ignore the stupid comments every other day to avoid giving them what they want. How you look out for those around you as much as you like to deny it.”

Jungkook’s speechless, to say the least. All he can do is stare at Jimin as he takes a step forward.

Though this time, Jungkook’s not towering over him. Jungkook has no purpose for that. Jimin’s the one who captures his eyes within his own as he wipes pushes Jungkook’s hair out of his face cautiously.

They’re only a couple of centimeters away—the distance seeming to be an unknown concept in both of their minds as of right now.

Jungkook’s fear is replaced by something else.

Something he’s scared to name.

He feels stuck—completely giving himself to Jimin then and there, pulls down all his guards for him. Hears them fall to the ground.

His tears are dry.

Jimin gulps, “How you allow yourself to carry blame that isn’t yours to burden.”

His soft hand moves, knuckles brushing through the younger’s cheek as he allows the words to fall ever so effortlessly from his lips. He can feel his breath hitting every word.

“How you defended me, even when you hated me.” He whispers.

Jungkook’s eyes switch slowly from his eyes to his lips, back to his eyes. He brushes their foreheads together lightly.

Jungkook licks his lips softly, “I never hated you.”

Those words, in a moment, became just enough to build up that courage that Jimin never had. That he punished himself for lacking.

Jungkook had continuously told him how he must learn to ask for what he wants and needs. For what’s right.

Only this time, by placing his hands shakily on each side of the taller boy’s head, he takes it without asking. He kisses him.

It isn’t quick and powerful. It’s slow and steady, his lips brushing against Jungkook before fully attaching them together.

Jimin wasn’t trying to fix Jungkook.

He was just trying to tell him that he accepted him just how he was.

And that’s how it should be

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook mutters as soon as Jimin closes the door behind himself, blushing furiously already, “You really weren’t lying about the castle part, huh.”

Jimin gulps—for some reason still feeling slightly intimidated by the younger’s presence, even though he had admitted it to himself already that it made him feel safe. Something he couldn’t dare to say about his own home.

None of them had addressed the kiss—unsure of whether it was even meant to be addressed. Though, he wouldn’t lie, Jimin did feel the screaming questions burning in his brain about them. What did it mean? For him? For Jungkook?

He was scared. Frightened, to put it into perspective.

“Here, my room is this way.” Jimin says as he passes by Jungkook, widens his eyes once he realizes how that might’ve sounded. He prays Jungkook hasn’t caught on and makes a remark.

He doesn’t.

Jimin gulps, relieved as they walk into his room.

He watches as Jungkook enters it hesitantly, as if he’s taking in every detail.

Jimin blushes, only now reminded by all of his pieces that he had up on his walls. His parents barely ever came into his bedroom, mostly just his maid—so he figured it would be a rather safe space for him to store his favorites, even if the rest remained at school.

Jungkook walks closer into a specific wall, his back now turned to Jimin. Jimin wishes he could listen to the younger’s thoughts—every single one of them.

Jungkook’s eyes focused on the watercolor painting of Jimin’s mother. Though no words were spoken, as if Jungkook wasn’t allowing him to know what he thought.

“Jimin?” Jungkook suddenly asks before turning around to face the smaller boy.

Jimin locks his jaw, “Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

Jimin gulps, opens his mouth to answer but before he is able to there is a knock on his door—Jihyun steadily walking in.

“Uhm, t-this is my little brother, Jihyun,” Jimin says as he rests his chubby hand on the back of the younger boy.

To say that Jihyun looked intimidated, slightly like a puppy with its tail between its legs, would easily be considered an understatement.

Especially after Jungkook raises his eyebrow at him.

He knows who he is.

Hell, of course he does.

“He’s, he’s the one who was spreading—” Jimin attempts to introduce him, though Jungkook is rather quick to cut him off.

“I know.”

Jihyun purses his lips, takes a moment of silence before he sits on his older brother’s bed. Hands fiddling with the hem of his sweater—same habit as Jimin whenever they feel an ounce of anxiety running through their bodies.

“He has something he wants to say to you.” Jimin says softly, eyes stuck on Jihyun.

The blonde boy’s heart is beating fast, feeling the tension himself. In every single inch of his body.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only lays his curious gaze with his raised eyebrow and chin at the younger boy.

“I uhm, I’m sorry I accused you. I know you didn’t do it.” Jihyun stutters, eyes frozen into the carpet.

Jungkook looks at Jimin for a glimpse of a second before returning to Jihyun.

“How?” Jungkook huffs.

 “Because…” Jihyun purses his lips, looks at his brother with a glint in his eyes.

Do I really have to?

Jimin nods at him subtly, the silence is thick and uncomfortable.

Not that it came as anything new to their household.

“Because, I’m the one who did it.”

To Jimin’s surprise, when he checks to see Jungkook’s reaction—there’s nothing extraordinary. No gasps or huffs. Anger outbursts, not even a glimpse of a glare.

Jungkook’s expression only changes, as if he’s realized something. Put the puzzle pieces together, even if the puzzle wasn’t fun to do.

Jungkook looks calm, normal—to say the least. As if someone’s just asked him if he wanted to have a coffee with them.

He almost look as if he understands the boy.

“Okay.”

Jihyun furrows his eyebrows, eyes snapping from the ground towards the taller boy dressed in all black. Well, mostly.

“Okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, only shrugs as he fits his hands into his pockets.

Jimin’s as bewildered as his brother.

“I-I will tell everyone at school—I swear—”

“No, you won’t,” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he huffs.

“Jungkook.” Jimin says, tone soothing.

“What?” Jungkook asks, “People already think I’m a criminal, anyway. I don’t mind.”

“Jungkook—” The blonde boy warns, utterly confused by his unexpected words. Even more so by the fact that he hadn’t even taken the time to ask Jihyun why on Earth he had done what he had done.

“I’ve grown used to the reputation,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “What good is it gonna do to put a kid through that, anyway? I don’t care.”

Jimin licks his lips nervously while he walks over to where Jungkook is standing.

Jungkook’s eyes stuck on Jihyun, though nothing malicious radiates from them—almost as if it is the opposite.

“You don’t have to do this.” Jimin whispers.

“But I am.” Jungkook says.

Jihyun gulps, his heart racing becomes almost visible as it bangs through his chest.

“He’s just a kid,” Jungkook says, “A dumb one. But still a kid.”

The room grows quiet for a moment.

“Thank you.” Jihyun mutters.

 


 

Jimin’s eyes feel heavy, as if they’re being tugged down by a bunch of rocks. The music is no longer music, just loud bangs that allow his body to shake to its blurry noise.

All he’s really able to make out is Seokjin and Namjoon making out against the bar—which, if he was sober, he’d definitely have his phone out and taking pictures that he could use to later mock Namjoon with. Though he feels too out of it to do anything in regards to it.

He loses balance for a second, forehead bumping into a stranger’s back. Said stranger turns around and offers him a smile—to which Jimin returns mindlessly.

“Is this cutie lost? Hm? All here by himself?” The man asks, drink in his hand—he smelled of alcohol. Though so did Jimin.

Jimin blinks at him, attempts to situate himself, gain focus.

“Now, what’s a little cutie like you doing here all by himself, hm?”

Before Jimin forces himself to structure some kind of coherent answer, he feels two hands on the sides of his waist.

“He’s not.”

It’s Jungkook.

The smaller boy looks back at him, heart beating fast—the generic nervousness dominating his body and behavior. The younger offers the man a forced smile—which leaves him with no choice but to grumpily take the hint and walk away.

Once the man is out of sight, Jimin blinks his eyes forcefully as he turns around to face the dark haired boy, whose hands don’t move from his waist as he does so.

“Jungkook-ah.” Jimin breathes out, a hint of a nervous smile plays at his pink, glossy lips.

Jungkook looks down on him, eyebrow lifted, “How much did tiny drink over here?”

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, his chest brushing against Jungkook’s, “Just—Just a little bit.”

Jungkook gives him a knowing, challenging look. Only now allows the older to notice how, once again, he’s towering over him. He makes Jimin feel small—in the best of ways.

Jimin gives in, “O-Okay maybe a little more than that.” He grunts.

Jungkook smirks fondly and Jimin blushes.

“Hey! You didn’t answer my texts.” Jimin glares up at the younger, “That’s mean.”

Jungkook licks his lips and he stays quiet, watches Jimin for a second.

“Because if I’m a bad kisser just say s—”

“You’re not.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, his gaze observing his surroundings for a second before returning to Jimin.

“Then kiss me again.” Jimin demands, a pout takes over his lips.

Jungkook’s jaw locks as he stares at Jimin’s eyes, his hold on him growing tighter.

He knew well enough that sober Jimin would never spit out those words—it endeared him.

“I don’t want to kiss you when you’re drunk.”

Jimin pouts at that, Jungkook chuckles at the child-like behavior. Jimin was truly an emotional drunk type of person.

Jimin breaks the eye contact with the taller boy and brushes his forehead on Jungkook’s chest.

“Did you come to save me?”

“Something like that.”

Jimin moves to hide his face in Jungkook’s neck—it’s warm and comfortable. He feels as if he could easily fall asleep right then and there. Wonder how fucked up he must be not to be scolding himself over the words that he had just thrown at Jungkook.

He’d just have to do that in the morning.

“I want to go home.” He mumbles against Jungkook’s skin, mouth tasting the alcohol.

Jungkook nods, allows Jimin to maintain his current position attached to him as he warns Hoseok that they are leaving.

He cages Jimin with his body as they leave the club through the crowded exit, the music becoming muffled as they’re hit with the windy atmosphere from the street.

“Whose car is that?” Jimin mumbles, eyebrows furrowed as he watches Jungkook open the front door for him.

He takes a minute to observe Jungkook, he’s wearing a bomber jacket—the shirt underneath dirty with oil-he must’ve come from work.

“My dad’s. I borrowed it.” Jungkook says as Jimin gets into the car.

As soon as Jungkook starts the car—the heaviness that lingers in Jimin’s eyes becomes stronger. The desire to fall into deep sleep taking over his body and mind.

“Don’t think I’m not mad at you for not kissing me,” Jimin huffs as he closes his eyes, giving into the sleepiness, “That was very offensive.”

Jungkook snorts, slides down his windows so fresh air is able to invade the car.

“Damn imbecile.” Jimin whispers, seconds later already snoring into his deep sleep.

A hint smile plays on Jungkook’s lips.

 


 

 

“God, I can’t believe you’re gonna be the first known human being to date Jeon Jungkook.” Taehyung comments as he adjusts Jimin’s earrings.

“It’s just a date—”

“It’s just a date,” Taehyung mocks, voice spoken over the music that he had blasted through Jimin’s room once they started getting officially ready—thankfully, his parents weren’t home, “You kissed him, Jimin.”

“Yeah, but, uhm,” Jimin gulps, he could practically shake by how nervous he was, “He refused to kiss me yesterday, as well, so—”

“Because you were drunk, dumbass.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, fingers full of rings now working on adjusting the smaller boy’s hair, “I fucking knew there was something up with you two. There just had to be.”

Jimin sighs shakily, purses his lips as he looks in the mirror at himself. He anticipates the date—wonders where the younger is taking him, if he’s going to get to kis—

“He didn’t tell you where he was taking you, did he?” Taehyung asks as he walks over to Jimin’s significantly large walk in closet.

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head.

Taehyung rolls his eyes at that, “Of course, he didn’t.”

Jimin turns around from the mirror to Taehyung, observes as he skims through his clothes. Jimin had always adored clothes—he was an artistic soul, anything that allowed him to express himself was an immediate getaway of his. Fashion himself.

“Now, we just have to find a jacket and you’re good to go, babe.” His best friend hums as he holds up a couple of jackets—eyes them up and down.

The taller boy holds up a pink jacket next to Jimin’s body, “Nope. Your makeup and your top’s already pink, you’ll look like walking cotton candy.” He deducts, throwing the jacket onto Jimin’s bed instead.

He holds up a white jacket next, Jimin looks rather pleased by it. Taehyung hums, “Maybe. Might work.” He gives it for Jimin to hold as he returns to his closet.

“I think this one’s probably fine—”

“Oh. No. Nope, I got it.” Taehyung announces, triumph smile spread across his lips. Jimin furrows his eyebrows, wonders what the boy means until he watches as he grabs something in the very back of his closet.

Oh.

“What better way to woo Jungkook with an outfit than wearing his own jacket?” Taehyung smirks


 

Jimin gulps as he looks over at how big the jacket is on him—it’s rather comfy, he wouldn’t lie. Though there was just something about it—it was Jungkook’s.

He purses his lips—taste the strawberry lip gloss as he does so and puts one foot after another.

He spots the younger—in a motorbike.

Oh, fuck.

Jungkook’s wearing a big, black jean jacket—some pins on it on the front. Helmet on his hands as he is typing down something on his phone.

Jimin takes a breath in as he steadily approaches, so slow and steady that the younger hadn’t even taken notice that he had gotten outside of his house—already only a couple of feet away.

It’s only when he clears his throat, forces himself to push down the bundle of nerves that his body as become, “Hi.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap up in a second. His phone long forgotten.

Dark red dusts the older’s cheeks as he feels Jungkook’s gaze eye him up and down—shamelessly checking him out. Taking him in.

Jimin felt utterly exposed under Jungkook’s stare, even if he was fully overed. He always did.

When a hint of surprise takes over Jungkook’s features, Jimin won’t lie—he feels a little bit proud. Jungkook was a very difficult person to surprise—to say the least.

Thanks, Taehyung.

“You’re wearing my jacket.” Jungkook comments, eyebrow raised and tongue licking his lips softly.

Jimin gulps, the nerves tugging at his skin.

“You finished it,” Jimin says, attempts to change the subject before he turns as red as a horrible sunburn, “Your bike.”

Jungkook purses his lips, “I did.”

“It looks good.”

“So do you.”

Unsurprisingly enough, that’s all it takes for Jimin’s eyes to widen and cheeks to burn—as if they had been set on fire.

His heart raced. Jimin had been called pretty a dozen times, though for some reason, Jungkook saying it—hit differently. And that scared Jimin to no ends.

He finds himself snapping out of his trance of thoughts when he sees the younger handing him out a helmet.

Jimin’s lips form a line, uncertainty spreads across his face as he takes a second look at the bike.

“Come on,” Jungkook huffs and rolls his eyes, “Since when have you been scared of things when I’m around?”

Jimin’s eyes widen for a second time before forming into a whole glare.

Imbecile.

The older one maintains the glare as he takes the helmet and puts it over his head, Jungkook smirking as he subtly shakes his head at him.

He takes a moment to fully gather around the remaining strength and courage that was left in his body to hop on into the bike behind Jungkook.

Ever since he had started hanging around the younger he had found himself using more of his courage, being more vocal in regards to things that used to scare him. As if he already wanted to always do and say certain things, however there was always a little door in between. And then Jungkook just came and opened that door, with stupid, stupid smirk on his lips.

When Jimin stays still behind Jungkook—frozen with the nerves, the younger waits a second before rolling his eyes once again.

“For someone who begged me to kiss them all night last night--you sure are acting shy.” He snorted as he reached behind him, took a hold of the blonde’s wrists and wrapped them around his torso.

Oh my fucking God.

Jimin was always so confident.

No one was ever able to make him speechless.

No one until imbecile came along.

“Shut up.” Jimin whines quietly against Jungkook’s shoulder.

The younger chuckles smugly as he puts on his own helmet, turns on his bike.

“Hold on tight, tiny.” He warns, “If you fall back I’m not coming back to save you.”


 

“I’m starting to think you might actually be a criminal.” Jimin mutters jokingly as he follows Jungkook through a significantly large hole in a wire fence.

It’s gotten dark, Jimin felt rather thankful that Jungkook’s jacket was warm once they stepped out of the motorbike. Red still tinted his cheeks—though at least he was able to excuse it with the cold.

“Come on.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as Jimin follows him hesitantly.

They walk through some sort of woods area, it’s dark therefore Jimin can’t help but follow the younger fairly close behind. It’s quiet, as if they weren’t supposed to be there—hence the fenced wire.

“Jungkook, seriously if you’re going to kill me—”

“If I was going to kill you—I’d be a little bit more creative than woods. Don’t you think?” Jungkook rolls his eyes—Jimin just knows he does, even though he can’t see his face.

The older glared at the younger’s back as he subtly slapped it, “Asshole.”

“I thought I was an imbecile.” Jungkook raised his eyebrow, the woody ground ending as they reach area with a couple of small buildings—an abundance of trees surrounding them.

They seemed empty. Dirty. Abandoned.

“You can be both.” Jimin mumbles, his cheeks feeling permanently warm.

Jungkook doesn’t bother answering, only snorts as he continues to walk into one of the buildings—black, metal staircase that occupies its outside.

“Jungkook—” Jimin groans, absolutely dreading the sketchy atmosphere that this entire place radiated. The wish for a candle-lit dinner in the back of his mind being drowned in its fear.

“If you question my date planning skills one more time,” Jungkook huffs as he starts walking up the staircase, “I might just have to actually kill you.”

Jimin groans, but keeps quiet as he follows Jungkook through the stairs. The cold breeze hitting more evidently as they reach the top of the building. It was clearly worn off, its painting cracking everywhere and dark stains on the cement floor. It isn’t that much of a tall building—though high enough for Jimin to be able to see some of the city lights in the distance and the stars above more clearly.

As he follows the younger ahead he notices the much higher building that is connected to the smaller one. He wonders what this place even is, though decides to allow Jungkook to come to his stop before doing so.

Jimin raises his eyebrows once the younger comes to a full stop just in front of the higher building. Jimin looks at him—and for a split second, he lets himself take in some of the details of his face. His ear piercings and how sweetly they shine within the moonlight, how easily his hair is able to get messy with a simple breeze.

“I know you’re good at painting with watercolor—drawing too,” Jungkook suddenly says after a moment of silence, “Thought I’d let you do something you like—just a little bit more my style.”

Jimin follows where Jungkook’s gaze lays after that.

Graffiti paint.

 

Jimin takes off his jacket—ignores the freezing wave of cold that hits his body as he does so. Though, he doesn’t want to risk for Jungkook’s jacket to get dirty.

He purses his lips as he picks up one of the cans—white.

He looks over at it for a second, attempts to figure out how to work with the pressure that it will require—how it even works.

Though—if Jungkook could be spontaneous enough to come up with a date idea like this, so could he. He stops his mind from overthinking as he simply starts to graffiti the wall.

As he does so—time passes, allows for him to get severely lost in it. Interestingly enough, he was able to get just as lost and dived into his escape through this method of Arts as well as something as delicate as watercolor.

Perhaps that could be applied to people as well.

Once he takes a step back to eye how his work is coming out from a further point of view—a moon with some stars surrounding it—he notices that Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.

He furrows his eyebrows as he looks around in search for the younger. Comes to a full stop and a racing, nervous heartbeat once he lays his gaze on Jungkook sitting on the ground. His body resting onto his hands which are placed behind his back, legs crossed and eyes utterly stuck on Jimin—an eyebrow lifted.

Had he been watching him the whole time?

“It really is as if you are in your own little world, isn’t it?” Jungkook comments, expression as if he was realizing it as he was saying it.

Jimin blushes. Most likely for the millionth time that night.

He licks his lips and gulps. “It is. Especially because you’re not painting with me.” He attempts to tease.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “We both know I’m not doing that.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Jimin lifts his eyebrow, taking a step closer to the younger, “Just stand there and stare at me?”

Jungkook lifts his chin knowingly, “I always do a good job at that, anyway.”

That one, hits Jimin’s nervous system in a whole entire different way. Thankfully, it’s dark, therefore his reaction wasn’t as obvious as it came out to be.

The older one sets his can of graffiti down before reaching down and grabbing Jungkook’s arm—pulling him forward.

“No.” The younger groans as he allows his body to be risen to its feet by Jimin, knowing well enough that he could win in a fight with the smaller one.

“Don’t be boring.” Jimin says as he drags the younger up close to the wall.

“Boring?” Jungkook questions, eyebrow lifted.

“Graffiti with me.” Jimin whines.

“I’m not doing it.”

Jimin huffs and stomps his foot as if he was just a little kid. He’s rather surprised at how Jungkook hasn’t made a “tiny” comment yet.

The blonde boy stays still for a moment before reaching down and picking up another can of paint—dark red.

He takes the lead of and throws it on the ground, “If you don’t paint then I’ll paint you.” He threatens as he points the can towards him.

Jungkook looks at it, rises his chin subtly, “You wouldn’t.”

Jimin’s eyebrow lifts at that—something that Jimin truly despises in this world is to be underestimated.

So he applies pressure with his finger into the bottle as it squeezes dark red onto Jungkook’s black shirt and jean jacket. Jimin widens his eyes for a second—surprised by the action himself.

Jungkook stares at his shirt before drifting his gaze at Jimin, challenged look on his face, “So this is how it’s going to be?”

Jimin’s heart quickens at that as his head shakes softly, “Jungkook—No.”

“Don’t complain now, tiny,” Jungkook huffs as he finally grabs a purple can of paint himself, “You started it.”

And just like that Jimin runs—not fast enough before Jungkook is allowed to strike back though. Jimin only ends up grabbing the white can as he runs through where he’d left it—where Jungkook was previously sat, spraying both of the bottles onto the younger. And only in a couple of minutes, the two are completely drenched in paint—a smile on Jungkook’s lips and fluttering giggles on Jimin’s lips.

“I surrender,” Jimin yells as he feels one of Jungkook’s arms around his waist and another one threatening him with a yellow can, “I surrender.”

Jungkook eyes him with an eyebrow lifted and small smirk on his lips before dropping the bottle onto the floor—arm staying around the smaller boy’s waist.

Jimin sighs in relief, catching up to his breath.

He giggles as he eyes Jungkook’s state, hair with wet streaks of red and face with some purple and blue. He imagined his own state wasn’t much better than that.

A breezing wave of wind passes by suddenly, causes for the older to shake with the surprising cold.

Jungkook’s eyes squint subtly, “You’re cold.” He deducts as he pulls Jimin closer by the hand that lays on his waist—their chest brushing against each other.

Jimin doesn’t reply, only stares into Jungkook’s eyes. Takes in how doe and deep they are. Could easily blend in with the stars in the sky that illuminate them.

And just like that, so easily and purely, he places his hands on Jungkook’s face—one on each side, just like he had once done and connects their lips together as he tippy toes.

Jungkook takes a second to kiss back—but he does. Brings his other hand to Jimin’s waist and hugs him closer as deepens the kiss.

He tastes like strawberry.

 


 

 

Jimin purses his lips as he looks at his mother—arms resting on the kitchen balcony. It’s silent for a couple of minute before she finally sighs.

“Jihyun… told me. About Jungkook.” She says, voice low as she was most likely used to Jimin’s father scolding her for speaking too loud all the time.

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek as his body grows anxious, “I know. I…I’ll try to invite him but—”

“I’m so happy for you.” She suddenly says as she looks up from her hands that were previously stacking some plates where they belonged.

Jimin’s breath gets caught up in his throat as he notices the glassiness that covers her eyes.

“Mom…” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“It hurts you’ve been distant, yes,” She continues, voice seemingly vulnerable at the very least, “But lately you’ve been so happy, and blushing whenever you’re on your phone and going out with your friends so much more—and it—it makes me so happy, honey.”

Jimin gulps, there’s nothing that hits his soft spot more than his own mother. Especially including the fact that she is allowing herself to truly share what she feels like with him—which is extremely rare. For a very long time now.

“Mom.”

“And if this Jungkook boy is—is one of the reasons why you seem so happy lately, I want to know him. I want to thank him—Jimin-ah, please.” She says as she attempts to recompose herself, wipes the tears that had subtly escaped her strengthening eyes.

Jimin sighs, breath shaky, “I…I’ll try to ask him, but… I’m so scared of ruining anything or—or scare him away, Mom. Dad can’t know, Oh my God you have to promise you won’t tell—”

“I know, I promise, I know.” His Mother reassures him hurriedly, “Your Dad will be out for a business trip next weekend that—that would be a good time, okay? I promise I just—don’t keep me away, please. I’m not your father—”

“I know, Mom.” Jimin says, pity over his mother washes his mind as he reaches to grab a hold of her hand, “I love you, I know. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, I should’ve payed more attention. It won’t happen again.”

Jimin’s mother grows quiet for a second as she looks at him, the tears fighting a battle to win over her eyes once again as she lays one of her hands against Jimin’s smooth cheek.

“I just want you happy.” She whispers.

 


 

 

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek as he runs through the mall, scolding himself mentally for being so late.

He checks his phone in order to check the time—the movie had started ten minutes ago. At least the small boy wasn’t as late as he thought he was ought to be.

As he goes to put the phone back into his pocket, his eyes widen and heart tightens as he notices who is standing on one of the walls next to the place in which you fill your drinks in.

Jungkook.

Dresses in all black, as per usual. Eyes stuck on his phone.

He waited.

Jimin takes a shaky deep breath before he walks over to the younger slowly. Pretends that his heart isn’t beating a million miles per hour.

“Hi.” He says, voice small as he fits his hands into his sweater.

Jungkook looks up from his phone, eyebrows lifting slightly, “Hey.”

Jimin purses his lips, “You waited for me?”

Jungkook puts his phone into his back pocket as he shrugs, “No, I just enjoy standing outside movie theaters.”

The older boy rolls his eyes at that—though surely cannot escape the blush that tints his cheeks.

Jimin found himself having a love/hate relationship with the power that Jungkook was able to have over him.

Ever since day one.

“Do you think we still have time to get some popcorn?” Jimin asks shyly as he looks over at the small line for the food.

Jungkook follows his gaze as he switches his weight from resting onto the wall onto his feet.

“It’s a cheesy, romance movie,” He shrugs, “We won’t miss much, anyway.”

Jimin smiles as he walks over to the line, the younger one following closely behind. He wondered if Jungkook wanted to ask about his family. Wondered if it was something on the back of his mind—maybe. Though he found himself grateful for the younger to allow Jimin get there on his own time. Tell him how he wishes.

When it’s their turn to order, Jimin can’t help himself but take notice of how the waiter is looking at Jungkook as if he is some kind of God. A piece of meat.

“A small popcorn and some water, please.” Jungkook asks for Jimin, causing him to gulp—though his ferocious eyes never left the waiter.

The boy was practically drooling onto Jungkook.

How pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, can you say that again?” The waiter stutters as he heart eyes over the younger, blushing over his own embarrassment.

Jimin could feel the blood in his fuming.

Jungkook smiled politely subtly before repeating his order, the waiter checking it in this time.

The waiter almost stumbled on his own two feet while grabbing the popcorn and drink for the order. The expression on Jimin’s face growing harder by the second, huffing to himself every time he caught the waiter staring at Jungkook as he filled in the cup.

Once the order was done and Jungkook handed the older his popcorn, they walk away. Though not before Jimin leans in on the counter and glares vividly at the waiter.

“I know my boyfriend’s hot, but there’s no need for drooling over him like that.” He huffs onto the waiter’s wide eyed-shocked expression.

The older walks away sassily after that, ignoring the way Jungkook raised his eyebrow at him as he passed by the younger.

“Boyfriend?” He mutters as they walk into the dark room.

Jimin hushes down his heart and embarrassment before rolling his eyes and attempting to play it off, “Shut up.”

 


 

 

Jimin’s heart is beating a thousand miles per hour—or so it feels like.

Jungkook had heard him, and of course, mocked him. He was pathetically grateful over the fact that they were in the movie theater, as dark as it could possibly. His vivid red cheeks hidden.

He doesn’t dare look at the younger, who’s to be found sitting only a couple of centimeters away from him.

Jimin wonders what Jungkook is thinking. He wonders if he had crossed an unspoken boundary, went too fast and impulsive. Though, if it truly had been something like that—Jungkook wouldn’t of have teased him the way he did, would he?

That’s the thing about Jungkook.

You never know.

Though when he feels a warmth on top of his hand suddenly—looks down to realize that it’s none other than Jungkook’s hand intertwining with his own. He feels relieved, saved from his own thoughts. 

The size difference makes him bite his lip embarrassingly, still unable to look at Jungkook. He simply sticks to holding his hand tightly as Jungkook begins to rub subtle patterns onto the back of his hand with his thumb.

Jungkook’s hands are warm. 

He’s glad that they’re sitting at the very end of the row, doesn’t allow his friends to see what they’re doing.

Allows for this moment to belong to just the two of them.

It takes some time in order for Jimin to be able to build up the courage to rest his head on Jungkook’s shoulder—but he does it.

Jungkook seems to tense up at first, most likely taken by surprise. Jimin holds back a giggle, wishes he could see Jungkook’s expression. Though the younger soon relaxes as he turns his own head—and Jimin swears, he swears, he feels a kiss being pressed into his head.

Perhaps the imbecile does has a soft spot for tiny things.

 


 

 

It’s colder than it was earlier, the only thing illuminating the street being the moonlight as well as the cars that passed by every so often.

Jimin purses his lips as he hugs himself away from the breeze.

Suddenly he begins to hear faint footsteps—his heart quickens as he turns around, only to find nothing, no possible source.

The footsteps stop.

He gulps as he turns around again, continues walking the way he is meant to.

The footsteps return.

Jimin’s breath hitches as he turns around fast this time—though meeting the sight of nothingness behind him except for the path that he had already walked through.

He gulps in dry, slowly turning back around once again.

Only this time—

“Ah!” The small boy yells his lungs out once his gaze lays on Jungkook standing right in front of him, hands hidden inside of his black hoodie and hair peeking out of the hood. His characteristic eyebrow lifted and smirk on his lips.

De ja vu.

“You asshole—Stop doing that!” Jimin whines as he slaps Jungkook’s chest, who’s only to be found snorting. “You scared me—what the hell are you doing?”

“What?” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he takes a step forward, suddenly towers Jimin with his intimidating stance—which has the older form his lips into a line, “You didn’t think I was gonna let you walk all pretty alone this late at night, did you?”


 

“So uhm—” Jimin takes a nervous breath in, hopes his hand isn’t becoming sweaty as it is enwrapped in Jungkook’s as they walk through the empty, dark street, “My mom… she uh, she wants to like—m-meet you.” He mumbles as his eyes remain stuck on the ground.

He feels Jungkook tense and his heart quakes.

“Why?” Jungkook asks after a slight moment of silence.

Jimin licks his lips, “She uh… knows we—you know.”

Jungkook looks over at him, eyebrow lifted, “Knows that we what?” He smugs, teasing the older.

Fucking Imbecile.

Jimin whines as he throws his head slightly back, dramatically, “You know.”

“I don’t know anything.” The younger shrugs—annoying the older.

“That we’re—you know,” Jimin huffs, his cheeks flushing as expected and most likely as the younger aimed for, “a thing.”

“A thing?” Jungkook smirks as his eyebrows shoot up—enjoying what he was doing way too much.

“Can you stop?” Jimin rolls his eyes, rubs one of his cheeks with his free sweater paw, hoping the blushing will die down.

It doesn’t.

Jungkook’s eyes soften, “And you… think that it’s a good idea? You want that?”

Jimin’s jaw locks, the nerves in his belly becoming severely active. He takes a moment to answer as he looks over at Jungkook.

“I-I do, actually.” He nods softly, “My mom… I think she kinda needs it, as odd as it sounds. I-It’s not like you have to, at all, because you totally don’t, you know? I don’t know, I-I guess it does makes me a little nervous—"

“You’re rambling.” Jungkook interrupts softly as he eyes Jimin with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Jimin flushes once again, a small wave of embarrassment hitting his body, “I’m… sorry.”

Then all of the sudden the younger stops walking abruptly. Jimin widens his eyes as he watches him tower over him, that intimidating feeling that he had felt from Jungkook since day one returning to his stomach as he looked up into his eyes.

They blended with the stars, again.

“Do I really make you that nervous, baby?” Jungkook whispers, eyes captivating Jimin’s.

 

Jimin gulps, decides to hold on to that glimpse of bravery that had been given to him at the movie theater.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.” He takes a breath in, shakiness dominating his small silhouette, “A lot.”

“Do you now?” Jungkook whispers as he rests his hands up on each side of the older’s face, in his chubby, smooth cheeks. His skin almost shining within the moonlight.

Jimin gulps as he feels Jungkook’s thumb softly caressing his skin.

He nods steadily.

Then, their lips meet again. Only this time, it was Jungkook who kissed Jimin.

And he still tasted liked strawberry.

Sweet, sweet strawberry


 

Jimin’s mother smiles as she dumps the food onto Jungkook’s plate with a spoon. To say that the house had an entirely new environment whenever Mr.Park wasn’t present would easily be considered as an understatement.

The dinner had started off well, Jimin’s mother carrying a shy smile the entire way as she greeted Jungkook into their home. Jihyun—surprisingly enough, not making any kind of immature remarks.

Jimin could simply blush by looking at Jungkook and his family in the same table. It made him feel that what him and Jungkook had was more real than ever. Strangely official.

“So, what do you want to study at college, Jungkook-shi?” Mrs.Park asks with a small smile on her face as she eats bite of her food.

Jimin’s heart grows immensely anxious at any question that is driven towards Jungkook—fears making him feel uncomfortable in any wat.

“Uhm,” Jungkook clears his throat, “Actually, I’m… not sure if I’m even going to college. I might just stick with fixing cars and doing photography on the side, I think.”

Jimin’s mother’s eyebrow’s furrow, “Why wouldn’t you go to college?”

“Mom.” Jimin subtly hisses over at his mother, though when he feels a reassuring hand on his thigh from the younger—it’s okay—he feels a sudden hint of relief.

“I just—don’t think I’m financially capable for that.” Jungkook shrugs as he resumes to eating the warm food.

“Oh.” Jimin’s mother nods, most likely feeling slightly guilty. “Well, Jiminie here is going to study law—follow his grandfather’s footsteps.” She attempts to change the topic quickly.

Jimin sighs discreetly, eyes maintained stuck on his food. Though he doesn’t dare say anything. Just as always.

“I think he should study Visual Arts.” Jungkook says, as if it was the easiest and yet most obvious thing on planet Earth.

Jihyun purses his lips as if he’s trying to contain a smile—only drinks his lemon juice instead.

Jimin’s mother’s eyebrows rise as a surprised look overtakes her features. “Oh… Why is it that you think that?”

“Because it makes him happy,” Jungkook shrugs, “Surely as his mother that’s all you want him to be, right? Happy.”

Jungkook knew what he was doing.

Jimin wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss or kick the damn imbecile

 

“O…Of course.” Jimin’s mother stutters at Jungkook raises an eyebrow at her innocently.

Though, not really

“Mom—” Jihyun calls out from his seat, mouth full, though is suddenly interrupted by a voice that comes from the entrance.

“I lost my fucking flight—can you believe that? I swear these things are run by fucking morons.”

Everyone stills as Jimin’s father comes into the dining room.

And just like that,

Jimin’s heart drops.

 

Jimin’s body trembles as his father takes off his tie, comes near the dining table. The silence is nothing short off horrendous.

“Oh.” His father mumbles before smiling as he lays his eyes on Jungkook. “Look who we have here, Jeon Jungkook—huh?”

Jungkook hesitates before subtly bowing in the older man’s direction, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr.Park.”

The older man chuckles, “I’m sure it is.”

Jimin bites his lip so hard that he is able to taste a hint of blood in his tongue. His eyes are locked with his mother’s—who seems just as scared as he is.

After a moment of silence, Jimin’s mother finally clears her throat—as if strength had taken its precious time to gather up inside of her.

“Honey, Jimin brought Jungkook-shi over for me to meet him—he’s a very nice boy.” She explains softly as she looks up at her husband.

Jimin’s heart felt ridiculously heavy, hanging on by a thread.

“Nice boy, huh? So it looks like you did do your job after all, Jimin-ah.” Mr.Park chuckles knowingly as he sits down on one of the chairs comfortably, “I have to say I didn’t think you’d follow through when I first asked you. You’re too soft. But it makes me proud to see you do as I ask, just like that with the favor, Son.”

“Favor…?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows as he asks, voice soft—hesitant.

No.

No.

Please, no.

“Oh? You didn’t know, kid?” The older man tsks, “I asked my boy here to get close to you—find out if you had committed that crime against me. Lucky for you, he finds you innocent, apparently”

Hurt.


 

“Jungkook, Jungkook wait, please.” Jimin calls out as he follows the younger—who had dismissed himself from the dinner by making up a sudden excuse—down the stairs outside into the street.

The knot that is engulfing Jimin’s throat grows within each breath he takes. He feels as if his heart was tight—too tight, unable to beat on its own.

Jungkook didn’t answer, only continued to walk towards where his motorbike had been parked by the sidewalk.

Jimin was desperate, feeling as if Jungkook was slipping away from his fingers—just like that.

“Jungkook, please—wait.” He cries, not even aware of when the tears had allowed themselves to race through his cheeks. “Please, it wasn’t—I promise.”

Jungkook doesn’t look back, each step he takes feeling as if the ground is Jimin’s heart itself.

When Jimin is finally able to catch up to the younger as he climbs onto his motorbike—he’s hiccupping, choked up on his own sobs.

“J-Jungkook, please.” He cries, utterly helpless as he watches the younger turn the motorbike on. “I-I wasn’t, please, Jungkook—“

“Is it true?” Is all Jungkook asks, posture calm and tone low—serious. Though when he looks up to Jimin his eyes are glassy—and all that Jimin is able to feel is painful flashbacks from that day.

The day Jungkook just looked utterly broken.

That day he looked broken.

Today he felt it.

Jimin stays quiet as tears keep streaming down his face.

He nods after a moment, knees becoming weak—as if his strength was being rapidly sucked out of him.

Jungkook’s jaw locks as he nods back to himself subtly, a tear falling onto his cheek as he puts his helmet on.

“J…Jungkook—please—No,” Jimin sobs in between hiccups, “Don’t go.”

Jungkook goes.

Leaves a crying Jimin behind to fall on his knees.

Strength lost somewhere inside of his broken home. The fear of never gaining it back being the last thing on his mind.

“Stay.” Jimin whispers as he feels Jihyun hugging him, pulling him off the cement floor.

And it just like that.

Jungkook slipped away from Jimin’s fingers.

The broken boy was gone, leaving another broken boy to beg him to stay by himself.

 


 

Jungkook sighs as he takes a significantly large sip of his cold beer. Stars and moonlight above his head and the moon graffiti painting done by Jimin in front of him. He doesn’t want to question why, after long hours of driving around on his motorbike, this was the place where he had ended up—of all places.

His eyes are glassy, hair is messy and he’s most likely not looking his best right now. Not that he cares.

Not that he’s ever cared.

He puts down the beer bottle next to where he’s seated on the floor, rests his weight on his hands afterwards as he lays subtly back.

He expected his mind to be found with a million thoughts—fighting over one another. In this truth, Jungkook’s mind was like that half of the time, anyway.

But instead of the expected chaotic mess, his mind carried nothing but emptiness. Stillness.

Ever since Jungkook was little, he always enjoyed playing in the sand box.

Jungkook hated sand. It got stuck all over his body and made his clothes itchy.

He didn’t think sand was fun.

Not at all.

But the sand box was that one place in the playground that was always empty. Lonely.

After spending all his time in there, though—he liked it, because it felt safe. And Jungkook has never felt safe with anyone but himself.

You see, Jungkook was given two choices. Either he goes and plays on the fun slide—meaning he has to get along with the other kids, or he goes to the sand box.

Jungkook was the kind of person to always choose the sandbox over the slide. And he didn’t believe that he would ever change.

Until Jimin came along.

Jungkook didn’t lie—he never hated Jimin.

Jimin was just always complicated. Everyone knew who Jimin was, his confidence and way of getting what he wanted. He knew his way around everything.

Jungkook belonged in the sand box. Jimin belonged in the slide.

And Jungkook knew that. He always knew that.

Which is why when Jimin first spoke to him, he never thought much of it. Developed his own enjoyment for teasing the boy, pushing his buttons and see where it would get him.

However, somewhere along the way—Jungkook began to want to figure Jimin out.

Understand why he was the way that he was. Who he was.

The want turned into something deeper before he was aware of it. Before he forced himself to come to that safe stop—the line which he had never crossed. But Jimin crossed that line for him and Jungkook just let him.

He finds himself wishing he did commit the crime as he drinks some more of his beer and takes in every single detail of the painted moon.

He wishes he was this person everyone made him out to be.

Everything would just be so—so much easier.

He wishes he wouldn’t of had allowed Jimin in. Wouldn’t of had allowed him to become someone in his life.

Jungkook sighs—drifts his gaze from the painted moon to the real one.

Real.

He wonders if any of it was real.

Wonders if Jimin felt the way he had shown, or if it was simply his mind tricking him into what he wanted it to be—not what it actually was.

And for a second, Jungkook wishes it hadn’t been real for him. He wishes he had committed the crim. He wishes he was that person everyone made him out to be—wanted him to be.

He whispers as he drinks the last sip of the beer, the bottle becoming as empty as the sand box.

“Maybe I am.”

 


 

The tears on Jimin’s cheeks have dried—he feels as they become softly sticky. His head aches from the continues crying, he feels as if all of the strength that was once in is body has been evaporated into another world. Far from here.

The knocking on his door had finally stopped, he assumed that his mother and Jihyun had given up and gone to bed.

The painful silence, a usual characteristic of his home, enwraps him as his eyes become dull—surrenders to the ache in his mind.

Lost would be the only word that could potentially describe him right now.

Pained.

For the past hour he had spent it reliving Jungkook’s laugh. Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook’s smirk. Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook.

He wondered where he was right now, what he was doing—what he was thinking.

He checks the current time on his phone, eyes hurting at the brightness from the screen. 3:28AM.

He sighs as he buries his face deeper into what he’s holding onto.

Jimin falls asleep wrapped around Jungkook’s jacket.


 

Momo sighs tiredly as she runs her fingers through Jungkook’s hair steadily.

Jungkook had passed out in her car, only after briefly explaining what had happened in his slurring, raspy, drunk voice.

Momo had to ask the help of his father to carry him to his own bed—knowing well enough that Jungkook would most likely murder her for it.

She watches as he sleeps, eyes soft and heart tightened. Jungkook meant a lot to her, and it wasn’t everyday he would break.

Not like this.

Not ever, really.

Part of her wanted to run to Jimin’s house and punch him in the face, part of her wanted to simply understand why.

It didn’t make sense.

As much as she wanted things to be exactly how they seemed, they were not. Jungkook taught her that.

“Was kind of hoping that the first time I’d have to carry him drunk to his own bed was from a party,” Jungkook’s father mumbles light heartedly as he enters the room, his hands two mugs with tea, “Not heartbreak.”

Momo smiles softly as she receives one of the mugs from the older man, watches as he sits down on a wooden chair next to Jungkook’s bed.

The older man takes a moment to look at his son, “Whomever it was, he sure must like him.”

Momo purses her lips as she nods, “He does.”

Silence takes over the room for a second, Momo takes a sip of her warm tea as she attempts to slow down all of the questions and thoughts that dominate her mind. Forces herself to push down the protective instinct in order to get a clear perspective on everything.

“Jimin?” His father mumbles lowly.

Momo’s eyes snap towards him, eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“Was it Park Jimin?”

Momo gulps, eyes look around for a second before nodding.

“I figured,” The old man mumbled as he pulled out a photograph from his pocket, “I only ever saw pictures of you laying around. When I saw this one I knew—he must be someone important.” He says as he extends his hand towards the young girl, handing her the small picture.

It was Jimin. He had paint all over his body and face, a smile across his lips and his eyes focusing on his dirty shirt. He most likely doesn’t even know said picture was ever taken.

Jungkook probably didn’t even want him to, regardless.

“I know you, and I know you’re going to do something about this.” His father chuckles as Momo smiles softly at him, hand leaving Jungkook’s hair, “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Momo purses her lips as she saves the photograph in her pocket, stays quiet for a moment as she spares a glance at her best friend.

“There’s two sides to every story—meaning nothing ever is as it seems. Jungkook taught me that.” She says, voice smooth, “I think it’s only fair I get the full picture before I do anything. As much as I don’t want to.”

Chapter Text

Jimin takes a shaky breath in as he walks over to the entrance of the school—where he had planned to meet Momo the next morning—holds onto his bag tightly.

He was rather surprised by just how vulnerable he had allowed himself to be during the phone call, had told Momo every single possible detail—wondered if by some point he was simply ranting to himself and using the call as an excuse to do it.

She had been vague with her words, barely had said much and only kept quiet as Jimin voiced whatever was going through his mind in that moment.

He’s scared.

Momo can be a lot more intimidating than she looks.

He spots her as she gets out of her car, her eyes immediately stuck on him like glue. The warm sun not being enough of a comfort to calm his nerves down.

He gulps, watches her as she strouts in his direction. She seems decided, a hardened expression taken over her features.

Oh my god, she’s going to slap me, isn’t she?

His mind and heart begin to race increasingly within each step she takes, closer by the second.

He closes his eyes as she comes close—awaits for the impact.

Though, something else comes instead.

Jimin opens his eyes as he feels her two, skinny arms wrap around him and hugging him close.

He freezes for a second before hugging the girl back, heart feeling a peace for the moment. Relief.

He rests his chin on her shoulder as she maneuvers her head so she can speak into his ear, “Everything’s going to be okay. Just give him time.”


 

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” Jimin whispers to Taehyung as the rest of the boys finish ordering their popcorn at the food balcony.

Taehyung eyes him with pity—no secret that Jungkook hadn’t shown up.

He had noticed the way Jimin’s eyes kept traveling around the place—everywhere but focused on his friends. Almost as if he could feel the blonde boy’s frustration in his own skin.

He nods softly, watches as Jimin walks away into the bathroom.

Jimin’s mind hadn’t worked the same for the past two weeks—ever since he had seen Jungkook.

It felt like one minute it would explode with the overwhelming memories that begged to be relived and remember—marked without a choice into his painful memory, and the other it was utterly empty. Dull. Lonely.

His fingertips have lingered only centimeters away from the screen, the his contact only a touch away—though the courage that it required was nowhere near to be found.

That scared him to no ends.

He sighs as he walks out of the bathroom, washes his hands as he looks into the mirror—checks if his hair is in need to be adjusted. He purses his lips, delicate fingers fixing the blonde hair pieces that are out of place.

He almost doesn’t notice the man who walks into the bathroom—he has black hair, and is rather tall. Smelled like cigarettes.

He does, however, notice the way in which said man looks at him as he washes his own hands only a couple of centimeters away from him.

Jimin feels what’s coming before it even happens.

“What’s your name, pretty?” The man asks with a smile—dries his hands on the towel near the long, black sink.

Jimin gulps, uncomfortable with the incredibly small distance between the two. The young man could have chosen any other sink—but of course, it had to be the one that was placed just next to him.

Jimin forces a polite smile, “Jimin.”

The man offers a smile back, “Jimin.” He seems to try the name in his own lips, “Well, you are very beautiful, Jimin.”

Jimin clears his throat, begs for the man to take the hint of his discomfort as he forces another smile through his pink lips, “Thank you. I actually have to go—”

“Are you, uh, alone, Jimin?” The man asks, confidence growing in his tone as he places an arm on the wall behind Jimin—leaving Jimin practically caged within him.

Jimin sighed deeply—definitely not in the mood to deal with this. The discomfort growing within each second that passed.

“No, I’m with my friends.” Jimin says, voice small and rather soft, as per usual, “Now, if you excuse me—”

“Because you are just so pretty.” The man kept on insisting, Jimin started feeling a subtle hint of panic pull down at his lungs. He hated being stuck. Especially by a complete stranger. “You know—”

“Knock it off.”

A voice grunts as one of the stalls that had been closed the entire time opens.

Jimin feels the chills in his spine before even looking.

Because he knows exactly who that voice belongs to.

The man’s head snaps backwards towards the tall boy as he makes his way towards the long sink, eyes not once drifting to them.

“Excuse me?” The man asks, an unpleased smile plays on his lips.

Jimin’s heart is beating forcefully, screams at Jimin to allow it out of his ribcage with fear that it will break it soon enough.

He wondered if it was real. If it was really Jungkook who was standing only a couple of feet away from him.

His hair was as messy as always, a big black hoodie wrapped around his body and his ear newly pierced at the top.

“I said,” Jungkook mumbled as he washed his own hands, eyes stuck on his fingers as he washes them, “Knock it off.”

The man snorted as he moved his body, no longer caging Jimin within him.

Jimin took a breath at that.

“Last time I checked, it was okay to flirt with someone if they wanted it?” The man snorts—obviously startled and worked up by Jungkook’s simple words.

Jimin stays quiet as he locks his jaw, doesn’t dare say a word.

Jungkook sighs tiredly. He cracks his neck subtly as he dries off his hands and then, after a moment, his eyes meet Jimin’s.

His stare isn’t warm or soft—though it isn’t cold either. It’s simply… closed.

Just like that first night at the bar in which Jimin had gotten drunk. As if Jungkook was no longer allowing Jimin to ever decode whatever he was feeling.

A barrier built within.

Jimin gulped—the intimidation of the younger’s stare had never left.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, expression emotionless as he asks, “Do you want him to?”

The man looks over at Jimin along with Jungkook.

Jimin feels as if someone was dropping a ton of bricks onto his back. His heart beat not only fast but strongly—forcefully. It almost hurt.

No.

It did hurt.

Jimin purses his lips as he shakes his head nervously after a moment of silence—eyes unable to drift from Jungkook’s, as if he’s got him locked up. “No.” He says, almost whispers.

And with that Jungkook drifts his gaze back at the man, shoots his eyebrows up for a second before throwing the towel in the trashcan and exiting the bathroom.

Jimin felt like he couldn’t move as he watched the young man huff and walk away afterwards.

He just stood there for a second.

And a second turned into a minute.


 

Jimin gulps as he watches the rain fall beyond his open window. His small body wrapped around his blue, fluffy blanket.

The tears still fell from his tired eyes—silently as he sobs into the blanket. His room was dark, the only light coming from outside—each sudden thunder would possess the capability of shaking up his entire figure.

His heart stops once he sees a hand suddenly grip to the base of his window—soon enough a head full of wet, dark brown hair appears after it.

Jungkook groans as he gets his body over the white window into the sudden warmth of Jimin’s bedroom. Entire body utterly soaked as he takes his oversized jacket off—throws it into a chair by the corner of the room.

“Of course your room had to be in the second fucking floor.” Jungkook mutters as he wipes his face with the back of his hand—eyes finally landing on the fragile figure that composed Jimin.

Jimin didn’t answer—body shaking and throat completely clogged up as it had defeated to the growing fear that overtook the control of his body. He gulps as the tears continue to waterfall their way through his wet skin—doesn’t dare move from the corner in which he is standing in.

Jungkook’s eyes soften at that.

“Hey there, tiny.” He whispers, jaw locked.

Jimin purses his lips—it hurt. Everything hurt.

Jungkook hurt. Jimin hurt.

He wondered why Jungkook had done it. How he was capable of putting it all behind him for a night—a delicate moment—just for him. Wondered if Jungkook felt the sacrifice as much as it most likely was.

Wondered if Jungkook hated him.

The blonde boy hates himself for not pulling the unknown strength to say the words out that had been left hanging in his mind and heart. The explanation, the apology—as if something inside of him was keeping it all locked.

 Leaving him with nothing except his own, current vulnerability.

And for some reason, Jungkook seemed to understand that.

Before Jimin could realize, the younger had taken a few steady steps towards his shaking body. And within the second, he was towering over him. Only this time, instead of leaving Jimin incredibly intimidated—which it still did by a moment, it made him feel safe.

“I am here.” Jungkook whispers as he wraps his arms around Jimin, pulling him close into his chest.

Jimin closes his eyes as he listens to the younger’s heartbeat instead of the thunder.


 

Jimin’s head hurts as his eyes open—reflecting the sunshine that radiated through his open window.

He licks his dry lips, taking his time to fully gained his own focused vision.

He’s alone.

Body tucked fully under at least three fluffy blankets—not that he remembers ever getting them, though.

He wonders if Jungkook had been a dream—nightmare due to the storm. Though it had felt so incredibly—painfully real.

His body feels utterly exhausted, as if he had just run a hundred marathons instead of waking up from the depths within his sleep.

Jimin isn’t sure whether he’d want it to be a dream or not. He doesn’t believe ever feeling as weak and vulnerable as last night, as if his own body had been completely frozen up by the lack of strength that it possessed—not allowing him any movement or proper communication.

He had hated it.

Yet, dream or not—he could still feel the warmth from Jungkook’s skin.

He cracks his neck softly as he forces his body to sit up on the messy bed. He yawns as he looks around for a second—eyebrows furrow as he finds a small piece of paper on the other side of the bed, only a couple of centimeters away from him.

He gulps into his dry throat as he grabs the paper.

It wasn’t a dream.


 

“Fuckin’ Momo.” Jungkook mutters as he crouches down in order to look in her cabinet—the camera nowhere to be found. He sighed—had barely slept, kept an eye on the one who had thrown a hammer at his heart at least until 5AM—when he had left through the same open window.

He groans as he continues to check on the drawers above the cabinet, body begging for a nap.

“Oh, look. If it isn’t the criminal boy.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he tenses up—doesn’t even bother in turning his body in order to focus Jihoon. Resumes to look for the camera so he can leave as soon as possible.

Instead only mumbles, “Oh, look. If it isn’t the dumbass himself.”

Jihoon throws a sarcastic chuckle at that, footsteps heard as they approach Jungkook.

“Oh, he’s alive?” Dongha. “Everyone thought he was gone, somewhere—not that they asked.”

“Of course,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he checks under the papers, not bringing himself the will to spare any of them a glance, “Dumb and dumber always gotta stick together.”

“You should really watch your mouth, Jeon.” Jihoon huffs, cutting the distance between them as he glares at Jungkook’s profile by only a couple of inches away—his body resting against some of the other cabinets while Dongha had remained by the entrance—body leaning agains the doorframe of the arts room.

Jungkook sighs, tired. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow, “Last time I checked you were the one begging for me to be dragged out of the room.” He smirks carelessly, still not sparing Jihoon even a glimpse of eye contact

 

“You know,” Jihoon sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Funny because—I thought you and Jimin were like, having a thing, I guess? But I haven’t really seen you two together lately. Have you, Dongha?”

“Nope.” Dongha shrugs, a challenging smile plays at his lips—though he maintains his position far away from Jungkook.

Jungkook adjusts his black hoodie as he rises to his feet, eyes still searching for his best friend’s rather expensive camera in all of the mess that had dominated the classroom.

Jungkook was biting down his need to punch Jihoon. His need to give him just a little taste—he swore—of what he was feeling.

Though he kept an emotionless face, unaffected by the two provocative boys. He knew it would just rile him up even more, not that the will to care was anywhere present in his body or mind.

“Why’s that Jungkook?” Jihoon asks, voice innocent as he rises an eyebrow and tentative smirk plays at his lips. “Did you steal from him like you did from his dad, or did he realize just how shit you are in his own time?”

 

The only reason why Jungkook hasn’t thrown himself at him—is because he’s well aware that his silence is exactly what’s riling them up.

They want Jungkook to be the first one who throws the punch. The first one to step up.

Because if Jungkook does so—he’ll prove their point.

They’ll win.

He’ll be who everyone just assumes and believes him to be.

And Jungkook wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“You know, you don’t deserve Jimin, anyway.” Jihoon shrugs, “Poor boy has enough on his plate with that fucked up family—doesn’t need you as the cherry on top now, does he?”

Silence.

“He was probably just bored, that’s the only possibly proper reason for him to be hanging out with you.”

Silence.

“I wonder what other crimes you’ve committed,” Jihoon sighs contently, “Is it just money stealing because you’re a coward yourself, or have you done something worse? You probably have, haven’t you?”

Come on, Momo

“I also wonder if you’re still convinced that you actually matter—that you’re someone, or if someone’s opened your eyes.” Jihoon hums, “Jimin probably did. He did, didn’t he?

Where’s that damn camera.

“Heard your Mom was an addict, too,” The boy snorts, “Now, isn’t that just perfect for your little story. What happened? She switched you for alcohol money?”

And just like that,

They won.


 

Jimin groans into his white pillow case—where he’s spent most of his day near, as the frustration of the lack of sleep hits him.

He sighs heavily as he turns around in his warm sheets again, eyes gazing at the ceiling covered in the darkness of the night. He gulps—he feels the empty spot.

The empty spot that was once full until Jimin’s father had taken it away. Just like he did with everything else.

His eyes drift onto the window that was open. He had decided to leave it open for the whole day—the daydream that Jungkook would come and climb through it playing in the back of his mind every hour. Up until now.

He licks his lips, eyes stuck on the moon and the light that it shone on him.

He felt at peace—for a moment.

Until his phone came ringing louder than he wishes that he had set for it to. Jimin groans as he extends his arm onto his bedside table and grabs his phone. Eyes squint as the brightness from the screen hits his face.

No Caller ID

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, it was 2AM. Who in their right mind would make a phone call at 2AM? Most likely just a couple of drunk kids prank calling someone.

Though for some unknown reason, something in the pit of the blonde boy’s stomach was yelling at him to pick up—so he did.

“Hello?” Jimin speaks into the phone, voice soft and slightly sleepy.

Hello, we are very sorry to call at the inconvenient timing, but, we’re calling from the Busan Police Station, this is officer Kim. Is this Park Jimin?

Jimin’s eyes widen at that as he sits up into his bed, “I—Yes, why? What’s wrong?”

We attempted to contact your father a couple of times tonight, though we were unable to get a hold of him.

“He’s out of town.” Jimin breaths out, grips the phone anxiously tight in his hand—skin becoming lighter.

Well, thankfully we were able to reach your contact. We are currently holding someone of your possible interest here at the station.

Jimin frowns, “What? Who?”

He walked in here—frankly behaved as if he was rather intoxicated. Might be a complete stranger—but my boss insisted on me calling you. He claims that he was the one who broke into one of your family’s residences, though because your father never did fill out a report or official investigation—we are unable to do much about it. He says his name is Jeon Jungkook, does that sound familiar to you, Mr.Park?


 

Jimin spots him sitting on one of the dark blue chairs. His messy hair covering half of his eyes, piercings shining within the heavy light from above and body wrapped in his black hoodie.

His heart is beating faster than what he believed to ever be humanly possible. Hands shake as he grips the jacket that he had panicky grabbed as he ran out of the house as soon as possible.

He had parked his car somewhere in which he most likely wasn’t even allowed to—though his mind felt like it was racing against itself a hundred miles per hour. Prevented him from focusing on anything else other than his heavy breathing and searching, worrisome eyes.

It’s only once he steps into the station, pushes the glass door open and takes a few steps closer to the younger that he notices the dark purple bruise just above his eyebrow—catching a little bit of the area in his eye.

He feels two of the police officers stare at him as he kneels in front of Jungkook, eyes widened at his state—stinks of alcohol. He doesn’t recall ever seeing the younger drunk before.

“Hey, I’m here. Baby, what happened?” Jimin whispers desperately as he grips Jungkook’s teary face between his chubby hands, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer—only eyes Jimin in his eyes.

Jimin feels his throat clogging up, the younger’s state scaring him to no ends. His heart only accelerated as he drifts his stare into one of the officers standing by.

“Can you get me some water, please?” Jimin asks out of breath, once one of the officers complies his gaze is immediately stuck back on the younger.

“Jungkook—Baby, please talk to me.” He begs, delicate finger brush his dark hair out of his sweaty forehead. “Who did you fight—what’s going on?”

Jungkook finally moves—gulps in dry as he takes a breath in, jaw locked.

“I committed the crime.” Jungkook mumbles past his drunk lips.

Jimin shakes his head, “No, you didn’t. You would never.”

“I wish I did, though.” Jungkook whispers after a couple of seconds fulfilled with silence, Jimin’s desperation so intense that he was sure even the two officers were able to feel it as they didn’t dare comment on anything.

“Don’t say that.” Jimin shakes his head as he takes the water bottle from one of the officers that had went to get it, “Don’t ever say that again. What’s gotten into you?”

“Maybe I am the person people believe me to be,” Jungkook slurs, eyes closing for a second, “It…It would be so much easier that way, so much easier to live that way. So why not?”

“Because that’s not you.” Jimin whispers, tears threatening to glass over his eyes, “It never was, it never will be. No matter how much you want it to.”


 

Jimin’s heart finds a glimpse of ease as he watches the younger drink a couple of sips of the water. He had spoken with the officers meanwhile—made sure to clear up the fact that Jungkook was nothing but innocent.

Which was nothing but the truth.

“Come on,” Jimin mumbles as he puts Jungkook’s left arm around his neck—putting in the effort for him to rise to his feet alongside him, “You need some air.”

Jungkook keeps quiet as they walk outside, the characteristic cold breeze travels throughout their bodies as they walks slowly.

The silence is maintained until Jungkook stops dead in his tracks—eyes fixated on something ahead so suddenly. Jimin rises an eyebrow as he follows his gaze, the rock pier.

Their rock pier.

Jimin gulps—aware that now is not the time to give in into one of his irrational fears as he helps the younger step down, allows him to sit down on one of the rock steps that lead into the pier. Jimin places himself only a meter or so in front of him.

Jimin sighs before taking a longing gaze at Jungkook, crouches down in front of him once again.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? Was it any of those pricks at school—was were they the ones who you fought? Why are you he—"

Jungkook keeps quiet for a moment, glassy eyes stuck on the waves.

“I didn’t lie. You know I didn’t.” Jungkook mumbles, the breeze passing through his dark hair—making it even more messy. If that was even remotely possible.

“What are you talking about?” Jimin asked softly, eyes pitiful on the younger. Desperate. Pained. “Who forced this into your head?”

Just like Jungkook felt.

Just like Jimin felt.

“Maybe I am that person. And maybe I want to be. The one everyone sees me as—the one even you saw me as, at one point.” Jungkook licks his lips cold, “I’d live with myself easier. Everything would just make sense—wouldn’t it?”

“The Jungkook I know doesn’t take the easy way out.”

“Easy way out?” Jungkook snorts, “If you really think I’m taking the easy way out then they were right—we’re from two, completely different worlds. Far, far from one another. Too far.”

Jimin gulps—attempts to push down the hardened knot that has developed in his throat as he moves near the younger. His small hands return to his skin, each side of his face warmed by them—Jimin forces Jungkook to eye him.

“No. And even if we did, it doesn’t matter.” Jimin says as he shakes his head, blonde hair becoming slightly messy due to the darkened wind as well, “The Jungkook I know protects those he loves. Works hard for what he achieves. Is intelligent—smart. Good. In every sense of the word.”

Jungkook’s jaw locks at that—glassy eyes allowing a shiny tear to escape and run its way down his cheek. It was only one—though it was easy to deduct just how heavy it was.

There’s a wave of silence—lines up with the ocean ones almost just as perfectly. Though instead of hitting the shore—it hits the both of them.

“That’s the Jungkook that is standing right in front of me.” Jimin whispers, starry eyes never leaving the younger’s.

“That Jungkook sucks. Sounds like an imbecile.” The younger mumbles as he rolls his eyes subtly—earning a small, teary chuckle from Jimin himself.

“Well, that’s too bad,” The blonde boy shakes his head—feels his own defeat within himself before he is even able to stamp it in his mind, “Because I’m in love with him.”


 

Jimin purses his lips softly as he watches Jungkook sleep soundly in the comfort of his bed. Some may believe him to be creepy for doing so—though all he gains from it is pure serendipity.

The sun that peaks through the glass of the window hits his face—almost glows. Jimin gulps as he takes a second to admire the younger’s features, something that he hasn’t been able to for a long time. Or at least it felt like so.

He sighs silently as he sits on the bed, couple of centimeters away from Jungkook’s sleeping body. Recalls the series of events last night—from dragging Jungkook to his car, upstairs—to taking off his shoes from his already passed out body.

He wonders if Jungkook recalls his words, or anything really.

He hopes he does. Not caring whether the feeling is mutual.

Because at this point all Jimin wants is for Jungkook to know who he is to him. What he makes him feel.

“I thought I’d wake up in my jail cell.” Jungkook mumbles—snaps Jimin out of his trance of thoughts as he rubs his eyes with his wirst.

Jimin rolls his eyes—avoids the certain hint of nervousness that develops in his stomach by the sudden active presence of the younger.

“Idiot.” Jimin huffs, eyes looking around his room before gathering the courage to look at the brown haired boy.

Jungkook’s face grows serious—quiet. Jimin doesn’t dare speaking as well. They just stay like this for a good moment, looking at each other. Taking each other in.

“You should probably put some ice on that, you know?” Jimin says as he motions to the purple bruise on the younger’s eyebrow, voice as small and intimidated as he feels, “I would of already brought you some, but I know you stubbornly don’t like it.”

“Yeah well,” Jungkook whispers in his raspy voice, most likely due to the leftover sleepiness that is still present in his tired body, “I also don’t like waking up in strangers’ beds, yet here we are.”

Jimin half smiles, “So, I’m a stranger now?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, expression not allowing itself to be decoded.

“Do you want to be?” He whispers as he swallows in dry.

Jimin’s quiet for a second, “I don’t. Never have.”

Jungkook looks at him, a wave of pain radiates through his doe eyes for a second. As if he’s reliving that day in his mind every second, a helpless rewind.

“Good.”

Jimin smiles softly, ignores the knot that clogs his throat and grows within each second that feels the younger’s eyes on him.

He takes a shaky breath in as he lays down on Jungkook’s chest. Head just under his chest and ear pressed to his heart beat.

It takes a slow second for Jungkook to bring his right arm and embrace Jimin with it—reassuring him of where they stand. He sighs, rests his lips on Jimin’s forehead as he feels the older’s chubby fingers draw delicate patterns on his chest.

There are questions to be asked—answers to be told. But as of right now they let themselves just be.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm.”

“Are we friends now?”

“No.”

Jimin smiles.

Serendipity. There it is.


 

“I really hope you punched them well.” Jimin mumbles as he withdraws his gaze from the bruise on Jungkook’s skin.

The usual cold breeze embraces the both of them as they walk. The only thing illuminating their path being the street lights and the stars high in the sky. For some reason the moon and the stars seemed to be a reoccurring theme for them.

Jimin didn’t mind it. Not like he hadn’t depicted Jungkook’s eyes to blend in with the stars themselves—not that he would ever tell him such any time soon.

Jungkook shoves his hands in his pockets, “I did. Only Jihoon, though. Dongha ran away.”

Jimin snorted, pushes his forceful beating heart further down in his mind of worries. “As expected.”

Jungkook purses his lips, as he looks straight ahead. He’s still keeping Jimin out—leaving him in the dark as to what he is feeling.

Jimin’s mansion was in the middle of a big field of grass, their pathway filled with trees on each side. It almost seemed as if they were in another universe—just them, away from everything. Walking in their own silence.

Jimin wants to ask, wants anything—something. But certainly not the silence that takes over as they walk steadily through the night. Though, he’s well aware that it isn’t his place to initiate the conversation.

He spares a soft glance at the younger as he wraps his arms inside of his blue sweater around himself. The hood covering the majority of the younger’s hair—eyes shiny even from his side profile.

“Why’d you do it?” Jungkook suddenly asks, cutting the silence with his low toned words.

Jimin gulps, hands shake as they grip the fluffy cotton of the sweater, “What?”

“The favor.” Jungkook says, sniffs due to the cold that surrounds them, “Why’d you do it?”

Jimin keeps quiet for a second as he looks at his own two feet as they walk.

“For my mother. She begged me to.” He almost whispers, unable to hide the shame that the subject brings along.

Jungkook stays silent—the only sound fulfilling their environment being their shoes as they walk on the ground and their breathings.

And then Jimin feels it.

He feels the thing he never really thought he’d be able to feel again—or at least for a good long time.

He feels the courage—the strength to act for himself. And it builds up quick in his chest, in his heart—through every glance that he spares at the younger. As if it is developing from him, a helping source.

Then Jimin stops—startles Jungkook slightly.

“Jungkook.” Jimin says, almost begs as he forces the younger to turn around and face him, bodies illuminated by a nearby streetlight subtly, “Yes. I did the favor. That’s why I started hanging around you.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he watches Jimin take a step forward.

“But it is not why I stayed.”

Jungkook licks his cold lips—eyes becoming stuck on the older one’s.

Jimin’s heart feeling as if it is going ballistic.

“Then why did you stay?” Jungkook whispers, humid smoke leaves his lips due to the cold as he allows the words to become free from his lips.

Jimin gulps, “You know why.”

Jungkook’s jaw locks as he takes a step forward, his body towers over Jimin. Towers over the older one as it did many times before, leaving him with no other choice but to look above at the younger from only centimeters away—chests almost touching.

“Say it.” Jungkook mumbles—Jimin is able to feel the warmth from his words in his own lips.

The blonde boy purses his lips, feels as if Jungkook is tearing down any possible wall that has ever been built to protect Jimin from the world, replacing them instead.

“Because…” Jimin takes a shaky breath in, eyes never leaving the close proximity of the younger one’s, “Because I’m in love with you.”

Those words seem to his Jungkook. Almost like a forceful slap in the face.

He had heard them before, though his drunk mind made him out to believe they had been a product of his state.

But it was real.

Very real.

Jungkook opens his mouth slightly as he takes the smaller boy’s cold—blushing cheeks in between his two, veiny hands.

Jimin’s breath hitches.

It doesn’t feel real.

But it is.

Very real.

“Don’t lie to me, Jimin.”

Jimin shakes his head slowly, “I’m not.”

And for a second it feels as if the world stops—allowing them a second to themselves. That only belong to the two of them.

A second that turned into a minute.

Once said minute was over, Jimin’s heart tightened as he felt Jungkook’s lips on his own.

Looks like the imbecile did stay after all.


 

One thing one should probably know about Jimin—is that he loves the beach. He truly does. Ever since he was a kid he’d go with his brother and mother since their father didn’t enjoy spending his time doing such activities. It was, in his brightening words—a waste of time.

Jimin loved it, the sun on his skin as he watched his friends run into the ocean or just lay down sprawled on the warm sand. It made him feel nothing but relaxed.

However, as he sits here putting sunscreen on his torso—he cannot help but feel the increasing bubble of anxiety that he feels in his stomach as he looks at his friends splashing into the ocean waves.

To most it seemed like pure, innocent fun.

To Jimin it seemed like a nightmare on the daylight.

“Come on, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon bumped him softly with his elbow as he approached him, “You’re going to rot in this ridiculous sun if you don’t go in the water for a bit.”

Jimin purses his lips, doesn’t move as he watches Namjoon jog away, down into the waves.

It’s not that Namjoon didn’t know—he knew. Though Jimin never made it out to be as big of a deal as it actually was. Because that’s what Jimin dreaded himself—that it was a big deal. Something so stupid, almost pathetic to a certain extent—some would most definitely say.

He knows he could easily just sit down and enjoy the sun—drag his small body into the shade whenever he wanted to. But Jimin was stubborn. Especially with himself.

He watches as Hoseok splashes water on Taehyung, giggles everywhere. Rolls his eyes at Jihoon who is currently attempting to flirt with some girl only a couple of meters away.

“No, no, no—Jungkook—don’t you dare!” His eyes snap towards a subtle distant squeaky voice—Momo.

She’s running away from no one other than Jungkook.

Jimin’s breath hitches.

Shirtless Jungkook.

The blonde boy’s cheeks grow red—most definitely not due to the burning sun above of him.

The younger’s hair moves as he runs after Momo, hint of a smirk playing on his lips. It was no secret that he had a good body, really. Though Jimin couldn’t help but stare for longer than he most likely should, his mouth growing dry.

“Stop! I swear—” Momo yells out as Jungkook throws her over his shoulder, foot after another as his body enters the cold water.

Jimin smiles softly as he watches the younger laugh—throwing away the dark haired girl into the water.

It wasn’t everyday that one would see Jungkook in this kind of environment—being social. Especially with a sudden smile on his face—clearly in a good mood. It also wasn’t everyday that he wasn’t wearing all black. Don’t get mistaken, his swim trunks were most definitely black, though it was the only thing covering his body.

Too lost in admiring the younger—Jimin takes a minute to notice that he’s staring at no one other than Jimin himself. The red on his cheeks darkens.

Jungkook smirks softly as he walks out of the water—Jimin does his best not to look at his torso while he makes his way to him.

“Your turn.” Jungkook breaths as soon as he gets close enough to the smaller boy.

Jimin’s eyes widen and lips form a line. Heart beats violently in his bare chest.

“I—I’m good.” He stutters after sparing a look at the crashing waves, his friends laughing carelessly in the background.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he looks back at the ocean himself for a second before returning his gaze back to Jimin. Then he realizes.

“Come on. You have to.” He says as he rolls his eyes, water drops fall from his hair into his face as he takes another step closer to the older—the distance almost non-existent at this rate.

Jimin gulps, “I-I really, I can’t—”

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook asks, eyebrow slightly lifted as he offers his left hand out to him subtly.

Jimin sighs.

Then he takes the imbecile’s hand.

 

“I think I’m good here.” Jimin announces, wonders if his heartbeat is loud enough for the rest of the world to hear it as he does, “I’ve gone far enough.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he looks forward at the older—water up to his knees. He raises an eyebrow at Jimin—who frowns.

Jimin wasn’t going to lie, the refreshment that the cold water brought him felt like a little glimpse of heaven. Though he surely was okay with only said glimpse if it meant that he had to go any further—into actual danger, to achieve more than that.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Jungkook mumbles as he grabs Jimin’s smaller hand in his own. Jimin flushes, the attention that he was receiving alone being enough for his heart to burst—let alone alongside the anxiety that was filling it up. Though bows his head slightly down to hide it as he allows his body to be dragged a little further by the younger.

He stops again and groans once the water is up to his torso—the uneasy feeling taking over his body and heartbeat as he looks around at all of the water that enwraps him.

He most likely looks rather pathetic right now, panicking over something like water.

He’s let go of Jungkook’s hand. The younger swimming a meter in front of him—in an area in which their feet wouldn’t be able to reach the ground anymore. Jimin liked to called that the death area.

Gulps as he suddenly hears a couple of whispers and giggles from behind him. He turns his head to find no one other than Dongha and Jihoon whispering between each other and gazing at him. They were most definitely mocking him.

Jimin felt like he was gonna be sick, his breathing getting heavier as he kept looking at all of the water instead of anything else.

“Hey, ignore them.” Jungkook’s voice suddenly snaps him out of his panicking thoughts, his eyes meet the younger’s calm ones, “You’re okay. You’re doing good, fuck them.”

Jimin gulps as he purses his lips, scared eyes stuck on the taller’s doe ones.

“Just swim towards me, I’m close. You can do it.” Jungkook encourages, his words and stare much softer than usual, the only intimidation being developed by Jimin’s own brain, “Come on, tiny. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Jimin takes a deep breath after a moment—closes his eyes as he makes up his mind. And within a second he lets go of all the fear and anxiety that was anchoring him into the ground and throws himself into the younger. He’s not sure if he would be able to call it swimming—though he surely kicked his legs and arms until he felt his body being held by Jungkook’s bare arms.

“There you go.” Jungkook mumbles as Jimin opens his eyes, arms wrapped around the younger’s neck and breathing loud and disturbed, “I’m right here.”

Jimin can feel the gazes of the ones by the shore. He feels them as they pierce through his skin harder than the burning sun. But he doesn’t find the will to care in his body.

Only being able to focus on Jungkook’s face that was a couple of inches away, clings to his body like a koala and worries about how intimate their position most likely is right now.

Jimin smiles softly after a second, his breathing still hard. He feels the urge to kiss Jungkook—though he doesn’t want to risk anything getting in the way of how he feels right now.

So he simply allows his wet haired head to rest in the younger’s shoulder—nose taking in the salty air from the ocean water that they were dipped in.

“M’Proud of you.” He hears Jungkook whisper faintly.

They stay like that for some time, pretend they don’t see Taehyung snap a picture here and there as he passes by on his shore walks with Yoongi.

It was funny, really. How easily he felt safe, just like that. How Jungkook provided him the key to unlock the strength within himself to face and do things he never really thought of doing.

Because when Jimin was asked what the worst place on Earth would be for him—he would say the ocean without a doubt. And right now, he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else


 

Jimin sighs happily.

Something that he hasn’t been able to say that he has done in a long time. Or felt, for that matter.

He cozies himself up in Jungkook’s lap, the younger one seated comfortably in one of the plastic chairs that was slightly buried in the sand that was once burning in the day light—now cold as the stars begin to appear more brightly.

To say he had earned stares when he had plopped himself in Jungkook’s lap would certainly be an understatement. Though they weren’t hateful stares, perhaps a little judgmental, yes, but nothing that made Jimin’s heart beat nervously for the younger.

Jimin rested his head on Jungkook’s shoulder—sudden memories from the ski trip appear in his peaceful mind as he does so. He smiles subtly.

Watches as Jungkook drinks the freezing beer in his hand, the music coming from the radio nearby allowing the environment some comfort. The bonfire was warm and large enough for a couple of people to roast some marshmallows on it—Jimin thought it was rather interesting. He had only ever seen people do that in movies.

Hoseok’s giggles ring in his ears as they contrast with the various conversations happening all around the illuminating fire.

Jimin feels happiness. Then and there.

And he just lets it be, as he should.

Though his heart tightened once his eyes came to a sudden stop—right across from the bonfire was Jihoon. He was sitting alone, a drink that Jimin couldn’t bother to find out the name in his hand and bitter gaze radiating from his eyes.

Jimin stared back at him for a second, the latter’s glare not being as scary as he once thought it was. Not anymore. The blonde boy didn’t glare back, instead, he smiled.

He smiled before he turned his focus back to Jungkook as his head maneuvered slightly upwards.

It took a second for Jungkook to notice and stare back down at him, eyes as calm as ever. Jimin wondered if Jungkook was happy, too.

“You okay?” Jungkook mumbled, eyebrows furrowing lightly as he rests his arm on the chair.

Jimin smiles softly, a sudden small breeze moving his hair out of his forehead.

For a second, Jungkook’s eyes blende in with the rest of the night sky. And though this was something that one would think the blonde boy is already used to, it still made his heart shake. The fact that his eyes were looking into his own didn’t help his habit of flushing around him. Being flustered becoming almost a normal mood for him—nowadays.

A moment passes by that feels as if it is theirs, only theirs. The action surrounding them becoming somewhat blurry. A background noise.

Jimin licks his lips steadily before reaching higher and kissing the younger on his pink lips. It was slow and long awaited. Long needed.

It felt nothing but intimate.

Jimin wondered if Jungkook could feel his strong heartbeat by how fatal it felt. He always did.

“Ocean gave you courage, huh?” Jungkook mumbled against Jimin’s lips, a hint of a smirk developing on his lips.

Jimin puts a little distance between their lips as he brings his thumb—brushes it against Jungkook’s bottom lip as he stares at it, eyes drifting back to Jungkook’s doe ones afterwards. Each movement feeling so utterly slow.

“No,” Jimin whispered, silently glad that everyone was so wrapped up in their own little world to ever bother and pay attention to the two of them, “You did.”


 

Jimin sighed shakily as he gripped the hem of Jungkook’s jacket—which was currently hugging his body from the subtle breeze of the outside.

He stared at the red door, the one he had already been in front of once. And said once, was when no one other than Jungkook himself had told him to never come here ever again.

For that same reason and memory, there was a nervous voice in the back of his mind. Knees felt weak as he knocked on the door—allowing the breath he had held in to be freed through his pink lips.

He waited a second, looked at his white boots and the pretty way that they blended in with the green grass. He would take a picture if he wasn’t as nervous as he was.

His eyes snap upwards once he hears the creaky door opening, meeting a sight of Jungkook. Grey shirt full, messy hair with a towel on his shoulder, covered in oil stains Jungkook.

“Hey.” The younger one greets, voice softer than usual as he grabs the towel from his shoulder in order to clean his hands with it.

Jimin likes to believe that he didn’t blush this time, pretends the warmth that covers his smooth cheeks isn’t real.

“Hi.” He smiles, bites the inside of his cheek slightly afterwards—eyes looking at the oil on Jungkook’s nose and cheek. He giggled, “You’re completely covered in oil.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrow, subtle hint of a smile plays at his lips, “Part of the work uniform by now.”

Jimin purses his lips, heart runs up and down once he walks in into the small house after Jungkook had opened the door and motioned for him to be welcomed in.

The house was already familiar—he recalled it from the last time he had been here. Though the circumstances were much, much different this time.

“Is your dad home?” Jimin asks as he notices the robe on the couch—assuming it was his.

Jungkook shrugs, “He’s usually at the park at this time. Pretty sure he has a crush on a lady that works at a café there.”

Jimin grins, takes a step closer to the dirty boy. Something about it feeling so genuine.

“Your dad? Has a crush?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully, “For a long time now, not that he will ever do anything about it. He used to take me to the café after school when I was younger as an excuse to see her.”

Jimin chuckles at that—eyes look up at the younger fondly. “And you’re okay with that?”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at the question, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jimin purses his lips. Jungkook knows why.

The older was well aware that Jungkook held no grudges against his mother. But the fact that he truly acts as if she wasn’t ever real makes Jimin wonder what his heart feels at the thought of her.

There’s a growing in ich in Jimin that begs him to figure out every single thing about Jungkook. Everything there is to know. Though he was well aware that when it came to things like this—it had to be Jungkook to allow him in, give him such opportunity.

“What are you working on?” Jimin asks softly as he attempts to take off a bit of oil off of the taller’s chin with his thumb. Takes a step closer to the younger, chests touch as he feels Jungkook’s arm around his waist.

“Nothing special,” Jungkook mumbles as he presses a subtle kiss on Jimin’s cheek—which causes the blonde boy to almost choke within his own unsettling heartbeat— “Come see.”

Jimin licks his lips, hopes Jungkook hadn’t noticed his ridiculous flushing as he follows him into the garage.

 

"

You look cute with my jacket,” Jungkook comments, his back turned against Jimin as he gathers some kind of tool at one of his wooden work tables by the corner of the open garage, “Makes you look even tinier.”

Jimin looks up from his phone, his and Namjoon’s text conversation long forgotten as his heart forces him to gulp, sets his phone aside. He rolls his eyes as he rises to his feet.

“I’m not that tiny, you… big imbecile.” He mumbles shyly as he walks towards Jungkook.

Jungkook snorts as he turns around, eyes facing Jimin’s rather petite figure. His face covered even in more oil now—not to even bothering mentioning his hair.

Jimin suppressed his fond giggles at the sight.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Jungkook quirks his eyebrows, watches as Jimin puts one foot after another until he’s as close as one can be, forces him to slightly look down at him, “You kind of are.”

The blonde boy glares up at the younger, ignores the feeling of safety that Jungkook’s jacket does—interestingly enough, provide him. Even when he’s literally, right there.

“But,” Jungkook whispers as he lifts Jimin’s chin subtly with the side of his finger, maneuvers him to look into his doe eyes, “You’re also really, really pretty.”

Jimin chokes. He’s able to hide it well enough—but he certainly does and feels it. Perhaps he chokes on his own heart as it feels it is running its way out of his shaky body.

“You think I’m pretty?” Jimin whispers, voice lightly shaking through his pink, shiny lips as his eyes find themselves almost lost in the younger’s.

Jungkook stays quiet for a second as blinks at the older, Jimin believes he sees a glimpse of a smile take over his lips for a moment. Feels the younger’s hands placed on his hips. His heart clogging his breathing as he witnesses so.

Though nothing ever compares to the way his heart beat at what Jungkook does next. Not even a thunderstorm itself.

Jimin gasps subtly as Jungkook presses a soft kiss to his neck, “I think you’re smart.” He whispers warmly into his skin.

Jimin feels his body giving in to the weakness that develops within himself.

Jungkook’s lips move steadily to the other side of his neck, “And gentle.” His breathing causes chills to generate in Jimin’s spine.

Is this real?

“And delicate.” Jungkook continues as he presses a kiss to Jimin’s nose, “And strong”, in the corner of Jimin’s mouth.

Jungkook pulls away for a second, forehead against the smaller’s as he feels his chubby hands cup his face—his hold on Jimin’s hips tightening subtly.

“And so, so pretty.” He whispers as Jimin presses his lips into his own.

It almost felt as if the same radiating energy from their moment at the beach had returned.

The same intimacy.

The same trust.

Though Jimin deepens the kiss this time, allowing the both of them to get lost in each other. His hand travels to Jungkook’s hair only making it messy as his lips dance with his.

They feel as if they are in their own little world.

Just theirs.

As it should be.

Jimin wonders if Jungkook’s heart is beating as strongly as his—questioning if this is a dream or reality itself.

Jungkook teases Jimin for a second, pulls back and brushes his lips against the blonde’s as Jimin attempts to go further—though he kisses him again before the older one voices any hints of complain—as he most likely would, especially wearing a pout on his lips.

Jimin’s tippy toe position almost grows tiring—though he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care as Jungkook holds him close, doesn’t care as he gets lost in the wonders of Jungkook’s lips—

“Hey, Jungkook-ah I brought you some coff—Oh.”

Jimin’s eyes widen as he jumps away from Jungkook by at least a meter, heart pounds as he watches Jungkook wipe his mouth quickly with his forearm from the side of his eye.

His cheeks grow screaming red as he wide eyes Jungkook’s father by the door—a mug in his hand and his jaw slightly dropped. He attempts to control his breathing—oh God.

“Thanks, Dad.” Jungkook nods as he clears his throat after a second passes by.

Jungkook’s father seems to blink—takes a moment to fully grasp what had been going on as he had walked in.

Jimin wants to dig a hole for himself and hide in there forever.

“Hello Jimin-ssi, I-I didn’t know you were over.” Mr.Jeon stutters as he sets down the warm mug into one of the wooden tables, body not moving from the doorframe.

Jimin purses his lips as he bows slightly, “H-Hello, Mr.Jeon.”

Tha skin that covers his face feeling like fire itself.

“Well, I’m happy to see you again—I’ll uh, I’m gonna go.” Jungkook’s father nods as he shortly smiles at them before exiting—closes the door after himself.

A moment of silence passes by.

“Oh my God.” Jimin groans as he covers his face with his hands.

Jungkook snorts before laughing, the older boy glaring at him as he does so—slaps his arm multiple times.

“It’s not funny—you asshole,” Jimin whines, each word coming with a slap to Jungkook’s chest—who was still rising as Jungkook laughed, “Shut up.”


 

“I am going to kill you.” Jimin whines at the sight of the familiar metal staircase that is placed on the outside of the abandoned building. The cold breeze enwraps his body as his eyes glare at the smirky Jungkook standing right in front of him.

“What happened to candle lit dinners? Is that not a thing anymore?” Jimin continues to whine, a slight pout dominates his lips as he allows his chubby hand to be intertwined within the younger’s.

“Candle lit dinners are overrated.” Jungkook huffs as he drags Jimin into the cold staircase, skin illuminated by the moonlight.

“Yeah, but they’re nice.” The blonde boy’s overdramatic pout grows as he goes steadily up the stairs.

Jungkook looks at him over his shoulder, “I’m better than nice.” He huffs evidently as his eyebrow quirks slightly.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him—ignores the way his heart flipped at the confident comment. The good thing about dates like this was that it was always too dark for anyone to notice whether his cheeks would become red or not. He hoped.

“Okay, close your eyes.” Jungkook demanded as they reached the top of the staircase—his bigger figure placed in front of Jimin so that he was prevented from seeing whatever it was that he was hiding.

“Jungkook.” Jimin raised his eyebrow, challenged. His heart beat anxiously, he had already been here before—so what on Earth could the younger be planning at a place so dirty and empty as this.

“Quit being stubborn and close your eyes.” Jungkook rolls his own as Jimin purses his lips, obeying and closing his eyes—allowing Jungkook full trust.

The younger one takes his hands after a second, leads him a couple of steps forwards—Jimin’s heartbeat increases as he wonders what the younger could possibly have of planned for him. Just the thought that Jungkook had actually taken the time to plan something made him want to curl up in a ball and hide away flushing.

“Jungkook, what are—”

“Quiet.”

Jimin gulps as he they finally come to a full stop, the wind feeling stronger as they were at the top of the building where they once had been. Closer to the stars.

“Okay,” Jungkook mumbles as he places himself by Jimin’s side, “You can open them.”

Jimin’s breath hitches as his starry eyes meet the sight of his familiar painted moon. Only this time, all around the moon there were his art pieces hung up around it—as if they were the stars in the background. The pieces he had left hidden in the Arts room of their school.

Jimin’s jaw drops slightly as his heart beats out of his chest—it looked so beautiful. There was no other word.

“I thought they were too good to be left hidden.” Jungkook clears his throat after a moment of silence, filled with Jimin’s speechlessness, “I know you like to keep them in the dark, I just—changed the type of dark, I guess. The night is better than a dirty drawer, right?”

Jimin’s glassy eyes drift slowly from his art on the wall to Jungkook. He gulps as a smile forms on his lips. And he just looks at the younger with nothing but pure adoration. Pure love.

He doesn’t believe the younger will ever understand the degree of meaning that this inflicts upon him.

Incapable of formulating words Jimin can only find himself able to hug the younger as he rests his head on his chest. Jungkook seems surprised for a moment at the reaction—though places his arms around the smaller soon enough.

After a couple of seconds Jimin looks up and places a kiss on Jungkook’s pink lips that were slightly cold, “Thank you.” He whispers.

Jungkook half smiles softly as his knuckles brush against the smaller’s cheek.

They stay like that for a moment, Jimin attempting to dry the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes as he looks into Jungkook’s one. Blending in with the stars above them once again.

“Don’t cry on me, tiny.” Jungkook raises his eyebrow as he looks down at the younger, “I’m not good at dealing with stuff like that.”

Jimin giggles at the confession, though giggles even more when their moment is interrupted by his belly making grumping noises—indicating he is slightly hungry.

Jungkook smiles as the smaller one gets red, “Don’t worry. I’m not a fan of candle lit dates but I’m not gonna let you starve.”

Jimin purses his lips and wipes his nose with his wrist as he watches Jungkook walk away, bends his body in order to pick up some paper bags that were in one of the corners.

It’s only then that Jimin takes a second to properly look around. Yes, it was the same—cold, empty place. Though this time there was his obvious wall of art, a grey blanket in the center and a couple of lights—most likely Christmas ones—in the corners.

It made Jimin’s heart flutter without any bit of shame.

“A piece of you,” Jungkook suddenly says—Jimin’s head snapping towards him, he follows his gaze as Jungkook motions towards the illuminated wall, “And a piece of me.” The younger then motions to the paper bags in his hands.

McDonalds.

Maybe the imbecile really was better than “nice”.

 

“Where the hell do you see a bear in that?!” Jungkook huffs as his eyebrows furrow, empty McDonalds bags by their side as they lay on the warm blanket—eyes glued to the stars as they attempt to find constellations.

“Look, the head is right there.” Jimin giggles as he points into the starry sky with his small hand.

“No, there’s just a blob there,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You only see it because you’re an artist and shit. You’re wired differently.”

Jimin purses his lips before a smile takes over them as he rolls onto the side—facing the younger.

Jungkook looks over at him, eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Jimin gives him a soft expression, “No one’s ever called me an artist before.”

Jungkook’s eyes squint at him for a second before he drifts his doe eyes back into the moonlight, “You should get used to it.”

The blonde boy gulps at that, once again ignores the way his heart tightens as he mimics Jungkook and looks forward into the night sky as well.

They allow the silence to take over for a moment, the only sound aware being the distant cars. It felt utterly peaceful—Jimin understood why this was a safe place for the younger. A go to.

“Jimin.” Jungkook suddenly says after he sighs, eyes still stuck on the mixture of stars scattered across the darkness.

“Hmm?” Jimin hums, mind a little lost in attempting to find more constellations and replaying the younger’s words until he grew tired of them. Which would take a long time for such thing to actually happen.

Jungkook hesitates, “I have to ask you something.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow as he senses the sincerity in the younger’s words—as if a serious moment is being pulled into their light atmosphere.

“I didn’t—I mean didn’t even know you were meant to ask this type of thing but like—I mean I knew something must happen but I wasn’t sure that it was this,” Jungkook rambles, Jimin finds it hard to contain the fond smile that begs to be displayed upon his pink lips, “I-I obviously—like, like you and you know—”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin quirks his eyebrow as he shifts his weight onto his elbows, gaining a new angle to look down to the side to the younger, “Are you trying to ask me out?”

Jungkook closes his eyes forcefully after sparing Jimin a glance and groans. Jimin flutters in giggles as he looks at him phased.

When Jungkook doesn’t answer and only brings his hands into his frustrated face—covering it, Jimin’s giggles grow louder as he throws his head back. His heart jumps up and down as he purses his lips after a second.

He sits up and throws a leg over Jungkook’s torso—finds himself sitting on top of the younger. He looks down at Jungkook before grabbing both of his wrists and dragging them away from his face—pinning them to the ground on each side.

Jungkook’s expression looks pained and frustrated—Jimin cannot help but smile fondly at it. Endeared to see Jungkook like this for the first time.

“Yes, I’d love to be your boyfriend.” Jimin whispers as he moves his face closer down to the dark haired boy’s.

Jungkook’s wrists are restricted by Jimin’s hands as they hold them down—though it doesn’t stop him from lifting his head and placing a kiss on the older’s pink, shiny lips.

 


 

“The lovebirds are here!” Seokjin announces as he comes across Jimin holding Jungkook’s hand as they walk in. The rest of the boys seemingly busy as they walk around with various stuff in their hands including pillows and buckets full of popcorn.

“Gross.” A squeakier voice speaks from one the doorframe of the kitchen, Jungkook’s eyebrow quirks up at the sight of no one other than Momo.

“You’re here?” Jungkook asks as the smaller girl makes her way to hug him casually, confusion uprising in his brain.

“I invited her,” Taehyung grins as he makes his sudden appearance out of the rather busy kitchen, hangs an arm around Momo’s shoulders as he does so, “So that we could judge the both of you, together. She’s my new best friend.”

Jungkook rises an eyebrow at that and Jimin only finds himself giggling subtly, forces a blush away from his warm cheeks once he feels the way Jungkook’s thumb is caressing the back of his hand.

Momo smiles softly as she rolls her eyes, “Bold of you to assume I didn’t come just for the free popcorn.”

Taehyung elbows her at that, a knowing smile on his face as he watches her disappear into the loud living room. Everyone must already be here—considering the volume of the noise that it irrupted.

Taehyung’s house felt rather homely, carpet floors with cream walls. Jimin loved to spend winter nights in here, making him feel cozy in the easiest of ways. Also the best place for movie nights, without a doubt.

“Come on,” Taehyung pulls Jimin’s hand, who pulls Jungkook’s down the hall of the entrance into the doorframe of the living room, “You guys still haven’t met Hobi’s date, Jai! He’s the nicest.”

Jimin comes to a full stop once that sentence leaves Taehyung’s moving body, allows his best friend to go into the crowded room as he turns around to face Jungkook.

“It isn’t too early, we can still run away.” He whispers, begs his boyfriend as a pained expression grows into his features.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, not allowing Jimin a piece of his mind as he drags them both into the living room. Or as Jimin would describe it currently—hell.

 

Jimin knew he was being overdramatic. Of course, he did. But it was Jimin.

So once he watches from behind his boyfriend’s back, where he’s currently hidden, as Jai lays his eyes on the younger his breath hitches.

Jai’s eyes widen as he shakes Jungkook’s hand—most likely remembering his face. Which only gave Jimin more anxiety to work with. Delightful, he would say.

He holds his breath as he feels Jungkook’s hand shift into his back, drags him into his side so that he was able to be face to face with Jai. Jimin gulps eyes utterly stuck on the carpet floor as he listens to Hoseok introduce him from above.

He does feel the way Jungkook’s hand caresses his back swiftly and subtly in reassurance.

“And lastly, this is Jimin. Jungkook’s boyfriend.” Hoseok smiles as he motions towards the blonde boy with his hand.

Once Jimin gains the courage to look up, his lips are pursed and cheeks tinted.

To say that Jai’s eyes widen as he shakes hands with the latter would certainly be an understatement.

The poor boy’s jaw drops and a rather fearful expression takes over his features as he grips Hoseok’s forearm with his free hand. Jimin is almost sure he saw him visibly gulp.

Oh, Jesus.

“Hi.” Jimin clears his throat in response to the slight bow that Jai politely offers him, the awkwardness not too obvious due to the chaotic environment of the pillow fort being arranged by the rest of the people that were occupying the house.

“Have you two met? Or something?” Hoseok asks as his eyebrows furrow at Jai’s expression.

The boy’s eyebrows widen as a smile takes over his lips within a second, “Nope.”

Jimin frees a breath, ignores the way Jungkook snorts. Takes a moment to appreciate the silent and mutual decision of him and Jai not ever mentioning the incident out loud. Or making it known, for that matter.

“Okay, guys, let’s go.” Seokjin’s voice snaps them out of their little secluded environment in the corner as he finishes setting down the last pair of pillows that he carried. “Settle down, pick your blankets. The movie’s gonna start.”

Jimin’s nervous eyes spare a glance at Jai, he silently thanks him before taking Jungkook’s hand and walking over into the overly cozy and comfortable area. The couple ends up choosing the couch far on the left, Jimin lies on top of Jungkook’s steadily breathing chest and a heavy, fluffy blanket covers the both of them.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Jungkook whispers into Jimin’s forehead, the older only sparing him a huff and rolls his eyes. Jungkook snorts.

“Guys, you know the rules, no talking and phones on silent.” Taehyung yells out sassily as he runs from his spot next to Yoongi to turn off the lights, “No making out as well—you nasties.”

“As if you’re one to talk.” Namjoon huffs from the floor, head resting on Seokjin’s lap.

Jimin takes a second to look around—takes in the sight of all of his friends in one place. Together. Call him cheesy all you want, though he doesn’t believe he can ever recall a moment in which his heart has ever felt this full.


 

“Babe, wake up.” Jimin whispers as his delicate finger brush the dark strand of hair off of the younger’s sleeping face, warm phone in his hand as he kneels over the blue couch, “I have to leave.”

Jungkook groans, eyes taking a steady second to properly open—blinking mindlessly a couple times before. Jimin looks around for a second, everyone is sound asleep as the movie credits are still rolling on the big screen of the TV.

“What’s up?” Jungkook’s groggy voice—which Jimin appeared to enjoy more than he cared to admit—asks as he rubs his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jimin bites his lip, “Jihyun. I think he’s in trouble—I’m not sure. I just know he’s not okay.”

Jungkook’s eyes squint for a second as he props his body weight onto his elbows, forces his eyes fully open as he takes a look at the older. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin bites his lip, draws his gaze from the window—it was already pitch black night time. “He called—He could barely breathe. He’s at a gas station nearby and he just—seemed very scared, I have to get to him.”

Jungkook cracks his neck swiftly as he rises to his feet, doe eyes still sleepy looking down on the blonde boy.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Jimin’s eyes widen for a second, cheeks slightly tinted as he blinks up at his boyfriend, “Y-You don’t have to—”

“How are you gonna go? Walking? This late?” Jungkook huffs as he grabs his black jean jacket, covers his body with it swiftly.

“I—I mean, yeah—”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, bends down to grab the two helmets from the back of the couch and extends his arm handing out one of them to the smaller boy, “Here.”

Jimin purses his lips, knows he doesn’t have any kind of response whatsoever so he simply takes it. Hopes that the anxiety that bubbles up in his body at the thought of his distraught brother in the same place as Jungkook doesn’t clog up his throat as he takes the helmet into his smooth hands.


 

When Jimin peels off the blue helmet from his head the sight of Jihyun is rather immediate. He’s sitting on the side of the road, face is wet and body seems sweaty. As soon as he sets the helmet on top of Jungkook’s bike he runs carelessly to his brother, crouches down in front of him—heart tightens at the obvious pained state that he seems to be in.

Jungkook follows him shortly after, his gaze is hard as he shoves his hands in his pockets. Allows a little distance from the two of them, yet still keeping close.

He knew this moment didn’t belong with him in it.

The smell of gas was nothing but unpleasant, though since it was so late the presence of cars was nearly absent. One passing by here and there, though practically no noise surrounded them.

“Hey, Jihyunie, I’m right here.” Jimin whispers, eyes panicked as his thumbs clear the glassy tears out of his brother’s cheeks, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Jihyun purses his lips, the gulps forcefully—Jimin can almost see the growing knot inside of his throat.

Jimin wants to pull answers out of his brother—though he knew he had to keep himself collected and allow the younger kid a moment to breathe and formulate some type of coherent sentence in his current state.

“I-I saw him again, h-hyung.” Jihyun hiccuped, obviously trying extremely hard to keep himself collected as he spared an intimidated glance at Jungkook.

“Who? Who did you see?” Jimin asked frantically, his heart being torn apart. He had always been sensitive to his brother’s feelings, ever since they were little.

He had took it upon himself to have him as his responsibility. Take care of him. So whenever Jihyun was in such a state—Jimin felt like an utter failure.

It was easy to see.

“Dad,” Jihyun sniffed deeply, wiping his tears with his knuckles aggressively, as if he was mad at himself—angry at the world that he was left living in, “With that woman. I-I saw them again.”

Jimin’s jaw locks as he closes his eyes, everything settling into place. His finger brush Jihyun’s hair as he takes a shaky, deep breath. Of course.

“I hate him. I hate him, hyung. I do.” Jihyun mumbled as he buried his face into Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin could feel his heart beat as tough as his own.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Again.” Jimin mumbled, forcing his tears to stay put inside of his starry eyes as he looked up—begging them not to fall—not to show his brother weakness when he needed strength.

“I don’t want to ever see him again. I don’t want to go home. It’s not home if he’s there.” Jihyun huffed, the angriness taking over his features and behavior, something switching in his eyes as he seemed to dig in deeper into his own trance of thoughts, “I’m not going back home. Not today—at least, I can’t, hyung.”

Jimin sighed, pained expression as if he felt Jihyun’s pain in his own body. Jihyun’s memories in his brain. “Jihyun.”

“Don’t make me, please don’t make me.” Jihyun begged, releasing the strengthening façade he had forced himself to hold up.

“Where are you gonna stay then?” Jimin asked, obviously set on persuading his brother back home with him.

Jihyun opens his mouth to answer, though no words leave it.

“With me.” Jungkook suddenly speaks, voice hard, Jimin and Jihyun snap their teary stares upwards at the taller male, “He’ll stay with me.”


 

“My room’s the first one down the hall, if you need anything.” Jungkook mumbles as he finishes setting the blankets over the old, brown couch. Slightly torn up to the sides.

Jihyun eyes him innocently, a hint of guilt washes through his smaller body as he eyes the younger from where he’s sitting on the opposite couch. Hands gripping the pillow that he had been given earlier.

Once Jungkook is done setting the blankets, he cracks his neck as he looks over the couch—as if checking if anything is missing that might be needed by the younger.

“Why are you doing this?” Jihyun’s small voice causes the taller to snap his head over his shoulder at him.

Jihyun’s body is almost curled up in a ball, the guilt and resentment towards himself screams out of his expression—hands tighten around the cotton. Jimin purses his lips as he turns his body to the younger.

He keeps quiet, eyes him nonchalantly for a second before sitting down on said couch.

He shrugs after a quiet moment, “I guess I know what it feels like to need an escape. A break.”

Jihyun gulps in dry as he forces his intimidated stare to look up at the older, “I don’t think I deserve that, though. A break.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards the ground—meet the dirty carpet that covers his floor before he licks his lips. “Maybe.” He says after a second, eyes switch back into the smaller’s figure, “But you also don’t deserve to have a shitty father like you do.”

Jihyun’s eyes blink—his mouth doesn’t open. He stays quiet as if he is taking in every single word that is freed from Jungkook’s lips.

A moment passes.

“We don’t get what we deserve, kid.” Jungkook says, his voice is low and posture focused, “We get what we can take.”

Jihyun gulps, his eyebrows furrow slightly as he processes Jungkook’s words into his chaotic, pained mind. Saves them for later replays—he feels as if it will be necessary. Will serve him some justice.

“You’re a good kid. Don’t give your father power to change that.” Jungkook huffs as he rises to his feet steadily, “He’s not worth it. You are.”

Jihyun nods silently and slowly as he watches Jungkook makes his way out of the darkening room, not before he lays a hand on his shoulder and allows him a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you.” Jihyun whispers—Jungkook pauses.

Takes his veiny hand off of the younger boy’s shoulder a moment after and exits into his own room without saying another word.

Jihyun falls asleep with a new perspective that night, his head lays in dirtier pillows and body is covered in cheaper blankets knitted together.

It scared him how he felt more at home here, in this old couch, than at his actual home.


 

Jihyun takes off his helmet with a small smile plastered across his lips—he had been unable to contain his grin the entire ride as he enjoyed the wind that came along with the bike.

It was still extremely early, the sun not fully out of the clouds yet and the birds beginning to sing here and there.

Jungkook takes his own helmet as he turns off his motorbike, puts it on top of it before turning his body around to face the white mansion with the abundance of growing trees and overly green grass surrounding its every inch.

Jihyun grips his grey backpack as he takes a step forward onto the taller—most likely composing himself in order to voice a proper thanking.

Though before he is able to do so—the front door of the large house swings open, both of the boys’ dark heads snapping towards its startling noise.

Jungkook squints his eyes skeptically as no one other than Jimin’s father—dressed in his usual black suit with dark blue tie—makes his way down the stairs. His body moves calmly—as if he had been expecting the two of them from looking out through the window. He carried a white envelope in his hand, each step that he took heavier than the next.

Jungkook’s calm eyes switch to Jihyun as he rests his body against his bike, “Go inside kid.” He mutters, eyes switching to Mr.Park.

Jihyun spares him a grateful glance before he walks expectedly fast by his father and jumps the steps into the clear house.

The fact that Mr.Park didn’t even blink at his son as he passed by him only confirmed his thoughts.

He rises his chin as he looks at the old man, shoves his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“Jungkook-ssi,” Mr.Park finally speaks up as soon as he gets close enough, “I have been meaning to talk to you. Very glad you decided to pass by.”

Jungkook’s jaw locks, a hint of an unknown smirk plays on his lips as he glances suspiciously at the old man.

“What uh, what were you doing with Jihyun?” The old man asks, his eyes challenging Jungkook’s as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Jungkook rises his eyebrow, expression utterly calm and collected—as if he had also known that this conversation was bound to happen sometime.

“What you should be doing.”

Mr.Park’s eyes grow mischief in them. As if he knows exactly what he’s doing, what word is off to come out of his lips next—which breath to take.

Though Jungkook doesn’t allow himself to be minimally affected, because, in all of its truth. He wasn’t. The last people that would ever scare him would be cowards.

“You know, Jungkook-ah,” The old man sighs as he takes a look around him briefly, “I was hoping Jimin would get the point. That people like you shouldn’t be kept around.”

Jungkook rises his chin lightly, expression doesn’t change as he quirks his eyebrow, “Looks like you didn’t make it clear enough.”

Mr.Park hums as he nods, bites the inside of his cheek as he opens the envelope slightly—rises it so that Jungkook could easily view what’s inside of it. “Perhaps you will.”

Jungkook doesn’t even have to look down at the envelope to allow a snort to come out of his lips as his eyes roll, he shakes his head, “I don’t want your money.” He huffs.

Mr.Park’s jaw tightens as he closes the envelope, he takes a breath in and a step closer to the tall boy—even though he was only leaning on his bike.

“I tried to be nice, kid. You leave me no choice.” The old man clears his throat, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly, “You and my son have gotten close—to close. And people talk. I cannot risk for my family’s reputation to go down the drain only because of a little imbecile like you.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow lifts slightly, his eyes squint as he looks into the older man’s knowing eyes.

Too knowing.

“Tell me Mr.Park,” Jungkook sighs overdramatically, “What does it feel like to be hated by your entire family? Is it just like all of your other achievements or does it feel even more special?”

Mr.Park eyes him with pure fury in his eyes. Jungkook knows he’s hit the spot then and there, even though the old man recomposes himself within a glimpse of a second.

“I’m not too sure you should be the one asking when your own mother would of have switched you for pocket money.”

 

 

It hits Jungkook. Of course, it does.

It tears him down on the inside with a force that Jungkook utterly despised.

But he doesn’t show it. His expression maintains itself cold hard, even though a million questions begin to run through his mind—something that he rarely ever let himself ever do.

How on Earth did this man know about his mother?

“Here’s what’s going to happen, kid.” Mr.Park grits through his teeth, most likely sets up the environment as does whenever he’s attempting to do business with any client, Jungkook imagines, “I am going to give you this money. You and your old man are going to leave Busan—at least for the entire Summer, I don’t care where. Who knows you might stay there forever if you like. The people will stop associating my son with an imbecile only then. You take this money and you vanish. Understand?”

Jungkook eyes him unphased, “And what made you think I’d ever do anything that you ask of me?”

The old man licks his lips before sparing Jungkook a purely evil glance. Jungkook feels it—as much as he detests to admit it.

“Because I know people don’t call you an imbecile in vain,” He says—each word lowly makes its way past his cowardly lips, “I know what your father did.”

Jungkook’s heart tightens. Because he knows exactly what the old man is talking about.

“And unless you want me to tell the police where they can find him—and you. You will take this money and go.”

 

Jungkook left that same day.

His house growing empty by the time the sun had been taken away by the moon.

Jimin was left without any answers or goodbyes. Only his father’s muttered words.

Their hearts that once beat one as one now torn into two broken pieces.